Dust Her Off, Let Her Shine
by coffeevixen84
Summary: Rachel Berry doesn't want to leave high school with nothing to show for it...she'd like to make friends. Set post-2x10. Rachel-centric, with Finn and the entire glee club playing major roles.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Dust Her Off, Let Her Shine

Author's Note: So here begins my first real multi-chapter Glee fic. *makes nervous face*

It picks up after the Christmas episode, and is (I think) true to everything that has aired thus far on the show. I'm just playing with them for the duration of the hiatus, so it'll probably in no way line up with what happens on the show come February. It's a Finchel at its core (but with probable Puckleberry romantic glimpses, and definite Rachel/Puck friendship. So if you can't handle any love for Puck, you may want to skip this.) However, it is also very much just about Rachel being okay with being Rachel, and finding genuine friendship and joy beyond Finn. She's my favorite, and sometimes it's hard for me to watch how they treat her, and how she lets herself get so far from who I believe she really is (*cough* crackhouse *cough*). So I'm working out my frustrations for her and with her here.

Disclaimer: I own nada (that splash of Spanish is dedicated to one Will Schuester.)

!

Rachel woke up at 8:00 am the day after Christmas in a cold sweat of unexpected anxiety.

Being Jewish, the day before had been relatively quiet for the Berry family. But just because she didn't personally celebrate the birth of Jesus didn't mean the day held no weight or specialness for her.

Finn _loved_ Christmas.

And she _loved_ Finn.

So she had wanted to celebrate it with him, just _be_ with him, to see his eyes light and his smile brighten with the childlike enthusiasm she'd always adored in him.

But now Christmas was over, and the possibility for sharing in the special occasion had passed. Possibly forever.

She'd gone to sleep grieving the loss of something she'd only ever hoped for.

Yet, on this chilly December the 26th morning, that regret wasn't what had her shooting upright in bed, an odd but growing sense of panic nesting in the pit of her stomach.

The sensation was dreadful, the effects maddening. She woke feeling like her life was…dizzying?

She glanced around her room, and everything was in perfect order. Chair pushed neatly to desk, books straight and alphabetically ordered upon her shelves, shoes lined up tidily on the closet floor.

But it was like, inside, her existence was a mess. Wreckage everywhere. Her handle on everything slipping.

She was sitting completely motionless, but still spinning out of control.

Her dreams had faded, her relationships crumpled, her sense of self and assurance in her own integrity totally forsaken. She'd let Finn down, and that in and of itself was heartbreakingly awful. But she'd really let herself down, too, and that seemed as if it was going to be even harder to overcome.

Santana had said everyone in glee club only pretended to like her. And while that stung, it certainly wasn't shocking. Most of them, Santana especially, didn't even pretend _well_.

But they were still all she had. The closest she'd ever come to friends, and she honestly thought it'd still be easier to salvage what she shared with them than to start all over.

It had hit her with her waking, fast like a lightening strike, that her junior year was almost over and despite her tireless efforts and her impressive talent, despite having truly loved (_loving_) an amazing man, she wasn't any better off than she'd been pre-Finn, pre-glee. She hadn't been lying to Mr. Schue all those months ago. She didn't want to leave high school with nothing to show for it, but she was getting dangerously close to that being the case.

And it wasn't popularity, or even a Nationals' trophy, that she was truthfully desperate for. All Rachel Berry wanted was to wake up in the morning and like who she was, and like the life she was living. She didn't feel that was too much to ask.

Clad in her warmest pink flannel pajamas she told herself there was no time like the present to make changes, to try and alter the course of her story. So after rushing through her morning routine as best she could, by 10:00 am she was out the door and on her way to a brighter future. She hoped.

!

Rachel sat in her pale blue Prius, just outside the Fabray home, as the sun slipped behind another grey cloud. The air surrounding her seemed colder even than the wintery temperature outside the car, as the last trace of heat had long since vanished. She'd been searching for her courage for nearly 30 minutes after all.

She looked at the box in her hands, plain white but with a small silver bow, and decided she was being silly. How could she fix her life if she wouldn't even move? Heaving a deep breathy sigh, she pushed her door open and climbed out, marching to the Fabray's front door like the confident young woman she had always wanted to be.

Her knock was light, her hand shaking.

The blonde woman Rachel recognized as Quinn's mother opened the door after a few moments. Straightening her posture, Rachel cleared her voice quietly.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Fabray. I'm Rachel Berry. I'm in glee with your daughter and I was hoping to speak to her, for just a moment. If she is home and it wouldn't be too much of an intrusion, of course?"

Mrs. Fabray's voice was soft, but not unpleasant, as she smiled and invited Rachel inside. Leaving the petite brunette in the front hall, the older woman left to get Quinn and Rachel couldn't stop herself from vibrating with nerves.

When Quinn entered a moment later, Rachel was relieved to see that while her expression was confused, it wasn't entirely unkind. She was also a little relieved to see the girl not in a Cheerios uniform.

"Rachel? What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Quinn. I hope you had a nice Christmas. I just wanted to give you this."

Rachel's voice didn't betray her discomfort, but Quinn seemed to pick up on it anyway as she quirked an eyebrow at the box that was practically shoved into her hands.

"I thought about what you said, a few weeks ago, about always wanting to punch me? And I'm sorry that you feel that way. That I've made you feel that way. It's always bothered me that my entire life everyone could see my flaws so clearly, but never any of my good points. But you made me think, and maybe I make them too difficult to find. So I'm trying to work on that. "

Rachel paused just a moment to take in Quinn's reaction. Which didn't seem to exist, as the pretty face of the head cheerleader was still curiously blank. But she hadn't rolled her eyes or kicked Rachel out, so the shorter girl chose to continue. "I love glee. And while the rest of the club may never like me much, while we may never be good friends, I'd like it if we could, I don't know, not be not-friends? So, I'm hoping we can start over. The club and me. And I wanted to begin with you. It is not much, but it's sincere. I hope you have a nice rest of your break, Quinn."

Rachel, satisfied that she'd made it through all she'd planned to say without Quinn laughing her off or calling her nasty names, only offered a little smile and a nod, before turning abruptly and letting herself out the front door.

!

To say that Quinn was surprised that Rachel Berry had stopped by for a visit, on Christmas break no less, would be accurate, perhaps even an underselling of the shock she felt.

But that Rachel had brought her a gift? Well, that was far beyond anything she could have _ever_ imagined. Considering she'd _always_ kind of hated Rachel. Since way before boyfriends and solos brought the tension between them any kind of credibility. And, she never felt too bad about it because she always thought Rachel kind of hated her back.

So the fact that sometimes Rachel forgot to play along as her nemesis always really threw her.

Objectively, she knew that they were all harder on Rachel than the girl deserved. She _was _selfish and annoying, but what teenager wasn't? But they all did it, even Mr. Schue, and Rachel always just took it, so Quinn didn't let it bother her. She had too many other things to feel guilty about, anyway. But something about the girl's speech just moments before had really struck Quinn. Apparently Rachel _did_ care that they all didn't like her. Apparently Rachel _did_ want to be friends. Apparently the girl _did_ care about something other than fame. And Finn. Maybe these revelations shouldn't have caught Quinn off guard, but they did. And suddenly the curiosity as to what was in the box in her hands was overwhelming.

Swiftly untying the sparkling silver ribbon, Quinn sat on her bed as she lifted the lid off the box. Inside was a CD, labeled with her name in Rachel's bubbly script, and a note.

_Dear Quinn,_

_First, I believe I owe you an apology. Maybe even several. In all the drama that happened last year, a lot of blame got passed around. And while I accepted mine for telling Finn about your and Noah's secret, I never took the responsibility I should have for my earlier actions. I'd like to do that now._

_When I met Finn (in the real sense, not in the "we go to the same school, and I know your name because you play football and sometimes help your friends throw things at me" way), I was instantly enamored. I know you know how charming he can be, without ever trying. He made me feel not alone, for the first time really, and it surprised and delighted and intoxicated me. And so I did not care that he'd already given his heart to someone else. Or at least, I didn't care enough not to try everything I could to pull him into my life as much as possible. I'm sorry now that I was so blinded then. That all I really saw was the Finn and Rachel of the equation, without giving due thought to the girl on the other side. _

_Recently feeling so much hurt and jealousy over him and Santana's tryst, and then (stupidly) taking comfort in Noah, and now losing him completely - I think I have a better idea of how you must have felt last year, when Finn joined glee and became my friend. I'm so sorry for the part I played in any of your hurting. It doesn't make it better, I know. It's awfully long after the fact and, obviously, not a single one of us is blameless anyway. But I still want you to know that I am very sorry for all of it. I really wish so many things could have been different. Between me and Finn, and you and Finn. And me and you. _

_Secondly, I want to tell you how superbly you did at Sectionals. I know I'm often abrasive, overly critical, and competitive to an intolerable degree at glee. For a long time, singing was the only thing I had besides my dads, and I've literally worked at it my entire life. So it's hard not to feel possessive of the music sometimes, or entitled to it when I think of all the time and effort I've put in. I often rationalized my attitude because the rest of you all had things beyond those songs, beyond those moments on stage. But I can see now how wrong that is, how unfair, when we are all there for the same reasons: We love to sing, and we want to belong somewhere where we can win for just being ourselves. I don't want to stand in the way of that anymore. _

_I want you to know that I'm aware of how talented you are. You're voice is lovely, Quinn, and also incredibly distinctive…which is such an advantage in performing. Your rendition of 'Time of My Life' with Sam was beautiful. And it's not the first time I noticed your skill. The CD enclosed has some songs recorded from glee. I thought you might want to hear for yourself how well you've done. Also, there are some songs on there that I thought might be particularly suited for you vocally. Some ideas you may want to consider in preparation for Regionals and Nationals. _

_I know you've never liked me, Quinn. Even before I remember ever giving you a reason not to. But I have never disliked you. I have a lot of respect for your drive and self-discipline, for your talents and your strength. And I believe, at the risk of offending you with this, we may not be as different as you think. _

_See you in January,_

_Rachel Berry * _

Quinn read the letter twice all the way through, then the last paragraph once more. She let out a shaky breath as she tried to process it all. Nothing concrete was different. Her and Rachel were the same people, with the same history between them, as they were before her mother opened the door 40 minutes earlier. But this had given her a different view into Rachel Berry, and, well, the girl was still mind-boggling. And wordy. But maybe she really wasn't so bad?

!

New Year's Eve was typically one of Rachel Berry's loneliest nights. Her fathers had a long standing tradition of attending an old college friend's annual party down in Cincinnati, and once Rachel was old enough to be left alone rather than with her aunt in Dayton, they usually took off early in the afternoon with a kiss, a hug, and a "see you next year." Her dads were amazing and when it became clear that their daughter wasn't being invited to parties or sleepovers like they'd thought, they always offered not to go and she knew they meant it. But it was something they enjoyed, with people they loved but rarely saw, and she couldn't let them sacrifice rare quality time with their friends merely because she herself didn't have any. So she'd tell them she liked having that little bit of time, and the house, all to herself, and she'd put on a brave face until their car disappeared from her sight. She got used to saying a quiet goodbye to another difficult year, all alone, in an empty house.

Despite earlier hopes for an evening with Finn, she now had the reasonable expectation that her farewell to 2010 would look very much the same as always.

But then Kurt Hummel called.

Of all the reasons she had to be miserable since her break up with Finn, the one that surprised her most was that the tiny taste of potential friendship she'd shared with Kurt at Sectionals would never be able to go anywhere. It seemed obvious that Kurt would side with his betrayed stepbrother, and the chance for her and Kurt to put their shared love of Judy Garland to good use was lost forever. Or so she'd thought.

She was cleaning up her lunch dishes the day before New Year's Eve when her phone began to vibrate loudly on the counter beside her and Kurt's name flashed onto the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Rachel. I need you to do me a favor." Kurt began speaking immediately and his words were clipped, but not unfriendly sounding.

"Okay? Um, what do you need me to do?" Rachel was assuredly surprised and confused by his call, but definitely pleasantly so. And she wasn't unwilling to help him. Depending, of course, on what he asked for.

"Accompany me to a fellow Warbler's party tomorrow night."

"Kurt, you do no know you called Rachel _Berry_…right?"

There was a snort of amusement that somehow still managed to sound sophisticated from Kurt's end of the line. "Yes, Rachel, I know exactly who I called."

"Alright." She was relieved that it hadn't been a misdial, but the request was still disconcertingly unusual. "But why do you need me to come with you?"

"I think this party could be a lot of fun. There will probably be some singing, and the Dalton boys are all very nice. But, I'm still the new guy, and I'm not 100% comfortable with them yet. Not like I was with New Directions. It's my first party, well, ever, so when Gregory said I could bring a few friends along, I decided to take him up on it. Mercedes has already agreed to go, and I thought maybe you would enjoy some different scenery."

"Kurt, I-"

"Look, Rachel, I know we've had a rocky past. We have never been friends. Especially not the kind that spend time together socially. But I think, _maybe_, we could be. Now that we aren't, as you pointed out, in constant competition. Besides, while I would never condone cheating…especially with the likes of Noah Puckerman, my understanding of the situation between you and Finn is that everybody made mistakes. I felt compelled to let you know I wasn't taking a side."

"Will Mercedes mind?"

"Probably. But if you let her see what I now know exists – the not crazy Rachel – then she'll get over it."

That wasn't exactly the answer she'd hoped for, but she was too realistic to be disappointed. And she always had appreciated Kurt's honesty, even when the truth was hard to hear. Still, she had another question.

"Are you going to want to have a say in what I wear?"

"Of course. I intend for us to go shopping in approximately 25 minutes. I'm already on my way to pick you up."

She felt herself laugh. Maybe this would end up being a horrible mistake, but in the spirit of starting over with the glee club, with her whole life in a way, she felt like this was something she needed to try.

"Fine. I'll be ready. But I do not want to spend all of my Hanukah money on one outfit, Kurt. Please keep that in mind."

"I'll consider it. See you in a few."

Rachel heard the dial tone and wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

!

Shopping with Kurt had been a much better time than the sad-clown-hooker make-over might have suggested. While unapologetically derisive when any animal sweaters came into play, Kurt understood that Rachel had a style she felt comfortable with (bows, short skirts, knee socks, loafers) and that while he wanted her to look good, he could only push her so far.

They compromised on a dress that appealed to Rachel in both length and the inclusion of ruffles, but managed it all in a cut and color that passed Kurt's inspection.

The then hour-and-a-half spent finding Kurt's ensemble left Rachel both exhausted and sore from laughing. His way with words was incredibly amusing when it wasn't being employed to hurt her feelings.

They'd pulled up to the Berry home just as her fathers were returning from work and the shock on her daddy's face when she exited the car of a peer, smiling, reminded her to be appreciative of what was starting to feel like an incredible second chance.

She paused before shutting the door, turning to the fashionable boy with a grin. "Thanks for everything, Kurt. What time are you picking me up tomorrow?"

She felt her smile slip when Kurt's face turned guilty. "Actually, is there anyway you can meet me and Mercedes at my house? Around 8? My dad's borrowing my car to take Carole out since his truck has been making some concerning noises and Mercedes doesn't mind driving to the party, but she's coming straight from church and to keep from being too late…"

She could tell Kurt was actually sorry for asking this, and knew it should be no problem to just say yes. She had been in school with Finn for weeks after the break up, even with him at Mr. Schue's on Christmas Eve, but his house? Even if it was Kurt's too, that seemed like a far bigger deal.

"Um, will _he_ be home?"

Kurt's expression softened further at the avoidance of _his_ name. "I don't know what his plans are. But I promise, now that we have separate rooms, I'll let you in and we can wait in my room until Mercedes arrives and then we're out of there. You may not have to see him at all, even if he is home. I rarely do."

She slowly began to nod. To be friends with Kurt was something she'd wanted, right? Then this situation was probably inevitable. May as well get it over with.

"I'll see you at 8 then. Thanks again, Kurt."

He offered a sad smile and a wave as she closed the door.

!

Kurt Hummel tried to be up front as often as possible. Before he came out to his dad, he'd spent so many hours worrying about it, and so many more hours wishing he was different just so that he wouldn't have to worry so much, that when he finally did it and his father, his amazing father, just said he knew, and that he loved him? Well, it totally blew his mind. Since, he'd continuously marveled at all the self-torture he might have saved himself if he'd have been a little braver a little sooner.

Every other awkward conversation since had seemed tame by comparison to the fear he'd felt on that particular occasion, so as a rule he pushed himself to always just get things out in the open now. Worrying solved nothing.

While he knew this particular conversation was going to be a little uncomfortable, he fully believed wasting time fretting over it wasn't going to change that. So he knocked on the door frame to Finn's new room.

The door itself was open, but Finn was sitting at his computer, looking deep in thought, so Kurt opted to respect his space and wait to be invited in.

"Oh, hey, Kurt." Finn's voice sounded thin, and to be honest, he looked a little tired. But he gave a small smile, and Kurt took that as a favorable sign.

"Are you busy?"

"Not really. What's up?"

"Well, I just thought it'd be polite to give you a head's up. Rachel's going to be attending a party with Mercedes and I tomorrow evening, and we're meeting here. I wasn't sure if you'd even be home, but I didn't want you to be caught off guard."

Kurt tried to keep himself from wincing as something dark passed over Finn's features, but he waited quietly for a response and when his stepbrother finally spoke, he felt relieved at the lightness, however obviously forced, in his tone.

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

Kurt nodded awkwardly, about to turn to leave when Finn spoke again to stop him. 

"So, are you and Rachel, like, friends now?"

Kurt gave a half-smile and shrugged. "We're trying it out."

"Why?"

"I've seen another side of her, and I like it. I think I always knew we had a lot in common, but there's been so much other stuff in the way that it never mattered. Stuff like me wishing she wasn't so talented. Or at least that she wasn't so horrendously aware that she was. But she's not all bad. Maybe not even mostly bad. And no one deserves to not have _any_one, Finn."

Kurt felt bad when the other boy flinched a little at his words, but it wasn't like they weren't true.

"Yeah. Um, well, I hope you have good time."

"Thank you, I'm sure we will. Are you doing anything fun?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed as a tinge of red colored Finn's freckled cheeks. "Actually, there's a party. At Santana's. I was going to go to that."

Kurt couldn't believe the powerful urge he felt to roll his eyes at that. He and Rachel weren't even really friends _yet_. Wasn't it a little early to be so annoyed on her behalf?

Still he tried to sound sincere. "Then I hope you have a nice time, too."

Leaving the room quickly, as soon as he was out of earshot Kurt let out a groan. He was starting to fear 2011 was doomed to be as dramatic as 2010, since apparently some people never learned. But he refused to think about it too much. Finn was a big boy, entitled to keep making the same mistakes if he so chose. And Blaine had mentioned he was going to Gregory's party and that meant a good night's worth of beauty rest was a must for Kurt. Still, he walked towards his room, shaking his head sadly the whole way.

!

The skirt was a little shorter than she remembered, the heels a little higher. But she didn't feel uncomfortable, just different, and she thought that was as good as she was going to get in a Kurt-approved wardrobe.

She'd heeded Kurt's advice and wore a little make up. As he had pointed out, this was an opportunity to practice for the glamorous events sure to be part of her Broadway future. He suggested she work now to find the right way to still feel like Rachel, but just "fancy" Rachel, and after some experimentation she thought the end result looked quite nice.

She parked her car on the street and searched her bag for her phone as she headed towards the Hudson-Hummel door. She was about to call Kurt to let her in, for she feared ringing the doorbell could put her in contact with someone she'd rather not see, when that exact someone himself came rushing out.

Immediately their eyes met and Finn stopped abruptly.

Rachel felt like she'd been punched. How had he gotten even more attractive in a week's time?

She stood still, staring at him in surprise (and a whole lot of other emotions), her mouth slightly open as a sudden panic coursed through her.

Shoving his hands into his pockets in an unbearably familiar gesture of unease, his eyes raked over the length of her before quickly tearing away. Finally he spoke, "Hey."

It took a moment to find her voice. "Hello, Finn."

"So, you're heading to a Dalton party with Kurt?"

"Yes. I'm quite nervous, actually; it'll be my first real party. But I think it should be fun." She knew he could tell she was rambling from discomfort and she thought it was probably rude to not ask about his plans in return, but from the way he was dressed (his 'good' jeans on and the collar of his nicest flannel visible over the top of his coat – the very definition of Finn Hudson date-wear) she suspected she didn't want to know.

He nodded, still looking more to the side of her than anything, but he didn't move to pass her and leave.

Still somehow stricken and unable to take a step, she struggled with faux-pleasant small talk to fill the silence. "Did you have a nice Christmas?"

His eyes flashed to her then, and his expression was slightly incredulous. And pained. He didn't say a word, but everything about the way he was looking at her seemed to scream, "Of course not," and, "It's your fault," and something she chose to interpret as, "I miss you."

The sound of the door opening behind Finn made her jump, finally breaking their debilitating stare.

"Rachel, you must be freezing. Come on inside. I need your help selecting the appropriate scarf for my overall look. Outerwear can be tricky."

As she nodded and went around Finn, she shot Kurt a grateful look. He smiled apologetically and motioned for her to enter.

"Rach- el." Finn forced the second syllable out a second too late.

She turned back towards him, trying to keep her face as neutral as possible.

"Happy New Year."

Her smile was dim as she replied, "Happy New Year, Finn."

!

The first hour had been rough. Mercedes was a little chilly towards her initially, and Kurt was so nervous that his usual near-constant chatter, which she was starting to get used to (and enjoy), was absent. But now, two and a half hours in? Rachel couldn't ever remember laughing so much.

She was wedged tightly between Kurt and Mercedes on a plush but tiny sofa, watching three guys she did not know perform a rather accurate recreation of an old Destiny's Child video. Complete with wigs, costumes, and choreography.

Apparently they'd lost a bet?

Rachel wasn't entirely sure what was happening, just that she was thoroughly amused. Especially when the tall senior who was meant to be Beyonce-like really started to get into it.

Mercedes had tears in her eyes, her one hand gripping Rachel's arm tightly as she laughed herself breathless. Which would have made Rachel quite pleased with its implication of friendship, had she not been so distracted by her own giggles.

Finally, as the song came to an end, she smiled widely as she commented, "Their "Kelly" made for a very pretty girl, didn't you think?"

Mercedes laughed again, "Yeah. But the "Michelle" needs to never wear that wig again. Ever."

Kurt nodded emphatically. "Agreed. Do either of you need a drink?"

Rachel's eyes wandered to the table in the corner where the beverages were lined up and noticed Blaine looking over the selection.

"I do! Please. I mean, a ginger ale, please." Rachel looked expectantly at Mercedes, nodding her head not-so-subtly towards the drinks and the object of Kurt's affection.

Mercedes smirked knowingly. "Yeah, I'll have something too. Make mine a sprite?"

"On it."

As Kurt rushed off, Rachel scooted down a little on the couch to try and save his spot and give her and Mercedes more space. It was quiet a moment between them, but unlike on the ride over, not an uncomfortable one. Still, Rachel was relieved when Mercedes turned to speak to her, though what she said came as a total surprise.

"Quinn told me about the CD. And the note."

Rachel felt herself blushing. While she had never expected any response from Quinn, as the days had passed she'd found herself wondering if the blonde had even opened the small gift. And whether, if she had, it would really make any difference. But to mention it to someone else had to mean something, right?

"We're not as close as we used to be. At the end of last year. She moved out right after having the baby, and we've both sorta fallen back into our old lives. But I still consider her a good friend, and it was really nice that you did that. No one could ever deny that your talented, Rachel, so a compliment from you can mean a lot. "

Rachel didn't know what to say, so she just smiled a little. She wondered if all Quinn had mentioned was the praise for her voice, not the heartfelt apology that accompanied it.

Mercedes' look then turned almost sheepish. "I don't know if you'd want to, but I actually told her I'd go watch the regional cheer competition in a few weeks. It seems weird to think about cheering on cheerleaders, but having missed last year, I think it's really important to her to win. It'd be nice not to have to go alone?"

Taking in the implied question, Rachel felt a surge of excitement. All her life, no one had ever thought to include her in plans. No one had ever suggested they wanted her company. Before Finn, she'd never really gone anywhere without her fathers or not just on her own. She didn't want to assume this meant anything life-changing yet, but she couldn't deny it felt like a sign that maybe they didn't _want_ to hate her. A sign that true friendship might be possible.

"Oh. I…you don't think she'd mind if I came?"

"Ya know, I really don't." Mercedes gave a slight shake of her head.

Rachel beamed. "Then I'd love to join you."

"Good. Now…." Mercedes looked around subtly, "hottest guy in the room – go."

Rachel felt herself smile. This was such a girl-friend thing to do. Scanning the mingling teenagers, her appraising gaze dodging the other girls scattered around, her eyes landed on a tall guy across the room. She could only see his profile, but she was struck by the way his hair fell adorably mussed across his forehead, and how his smile caused the slightest dimple in his cheek.

"Him."

Mercedes followed her line of sight and let out a little huff of amusement. "A little to Nick-at-Nite for my taste, but definitely not bad."

Rachel was glad she didn't point out he looked a little like another tall boy they both knew.

"Your turn."

"By the fireplace. In teal."

Rachel glanced casually over and felt her own eyebrows rise. The guy was extremely attractive. "Nice!"

"I know!"

"Maybe Kurt can introduce you?"

"Maybe Kurt can do what?"

The girls looked up as their wayward friend came back with Blaine in tow. Neither girl really cared that he didn't have a drink for either of them, but they shared a look of amusement.

"Oh, nothing. Hey, Blaine."

Kurt's new friend smiled warmly. "Hi, Mercedes, and Rachel, is it?"

"Yes, very nice to meet you," Rachel replied brightly.

"So, ladies, I was just telling Blaine how, with me now gone, you two are the best singers at McKinley. He seemed doubtful, since neither of you really got the chance to shine at Sectionals. I think I persuaded him to give you a listen though. Seems only fair."

Rachel noticed Mercedes roll her eyes, but her smile made Rachel think she liked the compliment and attention. Seeing this as an opportunity to really reach out for the friendships she desperately wanted, she spoke up.

"Mercedes is really exceptional, Blaine. Last year she had a breathtaking version of "And I'm Telling You" prepared, but unfortunately she was unable to perform it due to some unsportsmanlike conduct from our competition. It literally reduced our entire club to tears."

Kurt nudged Rachel playfully as he sat beside her, offering a quick wink as Blaine asked Mercedes if she'd be willing to sing a little.

Attention was called and Mercedes looked a little nervous, but pleased, when she was encouraged to stand and sing for the group who had gathered. She started and Kurt grabbed Rachel's hand to squeeze it knowingly, and Rachel squeezed back, surprisingly completely content in that moment to let someone else shine.

!

Preparing for her first day back at school, Rachel was incredibly nervous.

In the days since New Year's, Rachel had seen a movie with Mercedes and an unexpectedly friendly Tina, plus spent a lot of time with Kurt. (Apparently, now that he was wearing a uniform every day, he was hoping she'd allow herself to be an outlet for his fashion creativity. He kept showing up unannounced to further investigate her closet.) It was amazing really, how much of a difference a few days and some concentrated effort could make.

But, it had all been outside of school.

This morning she feared that going back to those hallways, to that auditorium and that choir room, would change everything back to the way it'd always been. And she'd find herself once again hated and alone.

She was scared, but still determined. She loved to sing, she wanted to shine, but not at the expense of her own happiness. And she was starting to find she needed other people, to care about and to care about her in return, to be happy.

Once upon a time she'd been lucky enough to find that in Finn, without having to sacrifice much. But she'd lost him, and while she missed him like crazy, she had to find a way to carry on. Making new friends may cost her some solos, it may require some compromise, but she was willing now, unlike ever before.

She just needed to remember that when she got to glee rehearsal.

Packing up her book bag she took one last look in the mirror and tried on a smile. She didn't look any different (aside from the new boots Kurt made her buy) but she certainly felt it. Taking a calming breath, she grabbed her things and headed out.

She could do this.

!

Somehow, she'd made it through the day without a single slushie thrown her way. She skipped lunch in the cafeteria (which may or may not have had anything to do with a certain ex-boyfriend) to drop off a few things at Mr. Schue's office and to discuss with Ms. Pillsbury-Howell an idea she and Kurt had for bringing a No-Bullying policy similar to Dalton's to McKinley High. But she'd had a short but pleasant conversation with Tina before their art class fourth period, and Quinn had offered her a smile in English, so she felt like the day was going pretty well as she stepped into their rehearsal space just before 3 o'clock.

She really should have known better than to think she could ever have it so easy.

The entire room fell silent as soon as she walked in, and the facial expressions of her peers indicated she'd been a topic of discussion right up until that moment.

She glanced around and saw that almost everyone was there already. Everyone, except Mr. Schue and Finn and Santana.

She straightened her posture and lifted her chin and continued towards a seat at the front. She smiled at them as sweetly as she could, but it was difficult as she fought off the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

What had they all been saying? Had Quinn read her note out loud to embarrass her? Had Mercedes complained about how Kurt had forced them to hang out? She'd thought she'd been making progress, but she could suddenly feel the worst kind of tension surrounding her.

She didn't think she'd ever wanted to disappear more than she did in that moment, sitting in an awkward silence with people she was devastated to find still refused to be her friends.

That was, until Finn Hudson and Santana Lopez walked through the choir room door, hand in hand.

She felt her eyes widen, and she immediately gulped down a sob as her entire body began to shake. Finn stopped short, his gaze meeting hers briefly as his face flushed and his shoulders slumped. Santana looked back at him, then at Rachel, before just rolling her eyes and tugging not-so-gently on his hand, leading him to the back row of seats.

Rachel felt a hand gently squeeze her shoulder and looked over to see sympathy evident in Mercedes' eyes.

At least now she knew they hadn't been talking about how they all still hated her. But she wasn't sure this situation was any better.

The silence was finally broken as Mr. Schue strode in, an enormous and oblivious grin on his face.

"Okay, everyone, welcome back. I hope you all had a nice break, but it's time to start working on Regionals. Now, Rachel, in a very captain-like fashion, has put together a list of songs I'd like everyone to look over. Rach, do you want to explain what you've done?"

Rachel had been working on just keeping her breathing steady, on not letting herself fall to pieces right there in the middle of rehearsal. And this was the time Mr. Schue expected her to speak?

His timing could be truly atrocious on occasion.

Shaking her head to clear it and focus, she stood and stepped beside Mr. Schuester.

"Thinking about our success at Sectionals, I believe that one of our strongest competitive assets is our internal variety. We have a lot of talent, but more importantly we have diverse talent. It showed in our selections. Pairing something old with something new, matching the straight up romantic pop of "Time of My Life" with the sultrier, more R&B "Valerie," demonstrated stylistic range and flexibility, as well undeniable skill. So, over break, I started brainstorming songs that haven't been performed at Regionals in at least the last 10 years that catered to each club member's particular vocal approach. I thought it might be a good jumping off point for finding something incredible and unexpected to work for us at Regionals."

She nervously looked over the faces before her. Quinn and Mercedes were smiling at her, Tina and Artie looked pleasantly surprised. Brittany looked confused. Santana, suspicious.

Finn was just staring at his hands.

She turned towards Mr. Schue a little as the teacher spoke up again. "Rachel left the list with me earlier today, and having looked it over I think there's some great material here for getting started. Everyone take a copy and pass the stack on. The assignment for the week is for each of you to plan a solo. It doesn't have to be one of the song suggestions from Rachel, but it does have to be in line with this point. I want you each to consider what it is about your voice that is different or special. What is the style that you feel you can really own, your musical niche? Pick a song that reflects what you bring to New Directions that you think is unique. "

Mr. Schue gave her a smile before stopping her as she moved to sit back down. "And, to start off the semester, I thought you might like to sing something today, Rachel? As I doubt anyone else took the time to prepare something new over the holidays, and I happen to know you had Brad and the jazz band in the auditorium during your study hall."

Rachel froze. By the warm and expectant look on her teacher's face she knew he thought this was a Thank You, a way to reward her for trying a more selfless approach to being captain. And, had she been working on a song for glee this morning, she'd be singing already. But that hadn't been the case.

What she'd been preparing with the band was personal, something for her alone, concerning her recent heartbreak. But seeing as the breaker of her heart was sitting mere feet from her, and in light of the sucker punch she'd received not even 15 minutes ago in the form of the newest glee couple, she really, really didn't feel like slapping her heart onto her sleeve and belting it all out right now.

"Actually, that's alright. I think I'll pass this time."

Schue's face fell in confusion as a few surprised murmurs filled the room.

"Come on, Rach," Mercedes encouraged, "You made me sing in front of those Dalton guys. It's been a while since you've done something, why don't you sing it."

"Yeah, Rachel. I'm sure what ever your working on is great," Tina added.

A scathing sniff came from the back row. "Please, it's probably some sad sappy love song for Finn. If she doesn't want to embarrass herself further, don't make her."

Rachel's eyes flew to Santana, narrowing in hurt and anger.

"Shut it, 'Tana. Look, Berry, we know you. You sing about what you're feeling, and right now you're sad or whatever. That's fine. And it's not like this all ain't awkward as shit already."

"Puck does have a point." Artie agreed.

The way they were all speaking to her, about her, had her head spinning. Any and all humiliation she'd have been spared by not singing was more than made up for by what was happening currently. Talk of her personal pain volleying around the classroom like the buzz about the latest hit reality show. She was now already mortified anyway. So, she may as well not be weak too. She'd sing her song. And she'd nail it. And then she'd go home and cry. It was the first time any of them had _wanted_ to let her sing, and she wasn't going to pass it up because of Finn Hudson and Santana freakin' Lopez. No way.

Mr. Schue was trying to reign them in, "Look, guys, if she doesn't want to perform something today, we can all ju-"

"No, they're right. Things are a little tense, and we all know it. Keeping quiet about my pain doesn't sound like something I'd do anyway." She forced a little smirk out and felt some comfort when Quinn gave an appreciative chuckle. Rolling her eyes a little at the title she explained, "This is "The Man That Got Away" as performed by the incomparable Judy Garland in the 1954 version of _A Star is Born_. Feel free to make assumptions about my personal relation to the song. But, keep in mind, it remains an incredible vocal piece whether one has recently been broken up with or not."

She nodded at the waiting band. The music started, and she knew this song was perfect; the exact piece for her precise feeling. Yeah it was for Finn, obviously. Wasn't everything she sang for Finn? But she wondered also if, with the recent decisions she'd made about her past attitude and behavior, if the loss, the regret, could also be about something more than her boyfriend.

Something like the friends she'd always unconsciously kept herself from making.

Something like the longing she had for chances she could never get back.

The intro was smooth, and she took a moment to marvel at the talent these instrument-wielders possessed. She'd have to be sure to compliment them when this was over, but for now it was time to sing….

"_The night is bitter, the stars have lost their glitter. _

_The winds grow colder, suddenly you're older._

_And all because of the man that got away._

_No more his eager call, _

_the writing's on the wall, _

_the dreams you've dreamed have all gone astray._

_The man that won you, has run off and undone you,_

_That great beginning has seen a final inning._

_Don't know what happened, it's all a crazy game._

_No more that all time thrill_

_For you've been through the mill_

_And never a new love will be the same._

_Good riddance. Goodbye. _

_Every trick of his, you're on to._

_But fools will be fools._

_And where's he gone to?_

_The road gets rougher; it's lonelier and tougher._

_With hope you burn up, tomorrow he will turn up._

_There's just no let up, the livelong night and day._

_Ever since this world began,_

_There is nothing sadder than,_

_A one-man woman looking for the man that got away._

_The man that got away."_

She held her last note out, low but strong, and she could feel the anguish tearing through her body and out with the final words.

There was a moment of silence, as everything faded to a close, but then she let out a quiet sigh and turned a large, even if strained, smile to the band. "Thanks Lucas, Jay, Rita. The horns were amazing. And thanks to you too, Brad. I think that sounded very nice."

She got a few small smiles and a nod from the pianist in return, but found she was unable to look anyone else in the eye now that it was over, and she'd just laid her very soul out before them.

She couldn't even revel in the sound of Mr. Schuester's clapping.

"Rachel, that was outstanding. Possibly the strongest performance I've ever heard you give. And I know you know that's really saying something."

"Thank you."

"Alright everyone, remember your assignment and will start hearing everyone else's solos next rehearsal. I'm going to dub Rachel our theatrical performer, but what style will we hear next? You all can break out of here a little early. Have a great rest of your day, guys."

As soon as the dismissal finished falling from their teacher's lips Rachel was out of the room in a flash. Rushing to her locker, she grabbed her coat and bag and was headed to the parking lot in no time. She had to get out of there. She had to get away. She literally had to.

Her phone was ringing near constantly the entire ride home, but she didn't answer. She had no words. She hadn't even noticed when the crying started, but by the time she had parked hot, fat tears had completely dampened her cheeks.

While she'd been focusing on improving her life, improving herself, she'd been distracted enough to forget how much it hurt being without _him_.There was an ache for him that never went away of course, a whispering of his name in the back of her mind that every one else unknowingly had to talk over. But she'd managed to put enough of her misery on hold to delight in Kurt's attention, and Mercedes' kindness, and the potential Quinn and Tina represented.

But singing that song, while feeling his stare, while knowing he now belonged to someone else? The loss of him was suddenly sharper, more suffocating than ever.

Glancing at her phone through the sad-mist in her eyes, she noted their efforts: Three missed calls from Mercedes; Four and a voicemail from Kurt; A texted sadface signed from Artie and Brittany; Another text of, "He's an idiot_,_" from Quinn.

For any other reason she'd be euphoric at this attention, brought to happy tears that people actually _cared_.

But, as she dragged herself from her car, into her house and up the stairs to her room, all she could think was, "It's really over."

And all the friends in the world couldn't ease the pain of that fact.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read or reviewed the first chapter! I was so wary of posting that rambling ode to Rachel, but now knowing people enjoyed/understood what I was trying to do makes me feel so much better about it. So, here is the next installment...I hope people enjoy it as much.

Also, for the record, Santana is my second favorite character. (Yeah, I know. I look at Rachel, and then I look at her, and it doesn't actually make sense to me either. But I can't help it. I adore them both.) And I hope to give her character fair attention and actual depth as the story progresses, but I'm not there yet. I hope that the way she's portrayed here doesn't offend any fans of Ms. Lopez. I love her too, I just think she can be a real bitch. ;)

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my songs.

!

The combination of a persistent knocking and the repetitious ringing of her doorbell was irritatingly disruptive.

Since she'd made her way home, Rachel'd been laying, snuggled deep and desperate into her blankets, while the countless tissues used to mop at her tears littered her floor. Listlessly she'd watched the sunlight disappear from the day while she struggled with every breath, literally crying her eyes out, and she'd been grateful for the solitude provided by her fathers' business trip and the off button of her phone as she broke down.

But apparently, as of 6:45pm, someone was keen on stealing that solitude away from her, and she took a momentary reprieve from her suffering to be totally annoyed.

She begrudgingly managed to pull her tired limbs, aching with her overwhelming sadness, from the protection of her bed and stumbled down stairs. Only to be completely taken aback by the sight of Noah Puckerman when she finally opened her door.

She felt her throat fill with questions, but she never got to ask them. Puck immediately push passed her and into her home without waiting for an invitation, offering only an, "I drew the fuckin' short straw," as explanation for his presence.

Blinking with confusion, she shut the door and followed him into the Berry living room, still unable to get a word out.

"I brought pizza, and yes, it's vegan. I don't know what the hell that means exactly, but the punk at Angelino's promised it was." He put the box on the coffee table before plopping lazily down onto the couch and searching for the remote, acting as if it wasn't thoroughly surreal that he was there. He seemed unconcerned with her puzzlement as she stood gaping at him, and only further qualified that he wasn't watching anything in black and white, or that involved more singing than regular speaking, so she shouldn't even ask. "And please tell me you have cherry coke in this house, 'cause otherwise I'm getting the six-pack of Bud from my truck and I don't care if you approve or not."

She moved slowly, almost dazed, as she brought him a cola and then sat on the opposite end of the couch. He'd apparently found something watchable in her fathers' DVD collection as she noted the opening scene of _Ocean's 11 _playing across the screen. He made a displeased face at his first bite of the pizza, but then continued to eat it as he nudged the box closer to her and demanded with a look that she eat something.

Another ten minutes in, after it was clear that Puck actually rather enjoyed this movie and wasn't planning on saying anything further as to why he was even there, Rachel decided this was ridiculous. "Noah, I do not need a babysitter. Thanks for checking on me, but I'm fine. You can go home now."

The groan and dramatic eye roll this elicited from her mohawked companion was almost comical. He made a show of pausing the movie in exasperation before turning to look at her. "I get it, Berry. You don't want pity. But guess what? I ain't offerin' it. You wouldn't answer your phone all afternoon and some people got worried. Not that you couldn't be alone, just that you _shouldn't_ be. So they sent me. Which, honestly, didn't seem like that great a plan in my eyes, but I'm sure they had their reasons. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to watch the movie. Quietly."

He was about to press play when she informed him, "I'm not making out with you this time."

"Glad to hear it," he threw back with a smile, which only caused her to glare at him. He continued with another eye roll. "Not that it wouldn't be hot, Berry, even though you are lookin' kinda pathetic right now. But I'm under strict instruction from Q to keep my lips and hands to myself. She threw out some pretty hardcore threats, full of language you would not expect from a chick who is always on about loving Jesus, and I think she must have meant them. So zip it, and let me fantasize about robbin' casinos."

He hit a button on the remote and threw her a warning glance as the dialogue picked back up, and Rachel settled in to watch the rest of the movie in near silence.

She must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing she knew the TV was off and Noah was stacking their plates and cups to take into the kitchen. "You're lucky you don't snore or I'd have straight up thrown your ass off the couch."

She frowned at him as he stalked out of the room. Stretching to relieve the kinks from sleeping at an odd angle, she reeled at the sound of water running and dishes clanking about. Noah Puckerman rinsing dishes in her kitchen? Surely this was too strange to even be a dream.

She finally found the energy to stand just as he was walking back in to grab his coat. While still completely exhausted from the stress of her day, she was able to at least remember her manners. "Thank you for dinner, Noah. And for cleaning up."

He looked at her appraisingly a long moment before nodding.

"See you tomorrow, Berry." Then he quietly let himself out.

Making her way upstairs and getting ready for bed, she reviewed the unforeseen events of her evening. She still felt the crushing, massive weight of this mess with Finn pressing down on her with every single second, but she was no longer drowning in her own tears, no longer hopeless. A new calm had come over her as she'd sat with Noah, and she didn't know what that meant or how his presence had helped, but she knew she'd apparently needed it. As her heavy eyes fell shut, her last thoughts were grateful.

!

Puck slouched low in his uncomfortable chair; head tilted back, eyes closed. Mr. Waterford had accepted ages ago that a sleeping Noah Puckerman was better for the rest of his class than an awake one, so Puck had been planning on getting at least a 40-minute nap in, no problem, during his joke of an economics course. But today there would be no such luck.

He heard her light steps and the familiar swishing of her Cheerio skirt as she approached, but even if he hadn't he would have known it was Quinn the moment she slipped into the seat beside him by the perfume she always wore.

"You survived, I see." Her statement sounded bored, but he knew she was bursting with curiosity. Otherwise she wouldn't be here, in the back row of class, yet again breaking their unspoken rule of mutual avoidance.

He opened one eye to look over at her, letting her know he wasn't sleeping yet and had heard her, but that was all he offered.

She sighed as she began to remove the necessary things from her backpack, obviously conflicted on whether to try again for information or to just write him off as useless, like always.

He'd just decided she was going to let him nap after all when she spoke again. "How was she?"

Puck huffed (though he was secretly astounded that Quinn had opted to come right out with it) and glared over at her as he sat up a little straighter and angled his torso towards the blonde who had the tendency to complicate his life.

"She was a mess. She obviously had been crying, lots, and she barely said a world all night. Which, while something I've prayed for often, didn't seem like a good sign." He watched her mouth twitch a little at the corner, but she still looked as if she wanted more information. "I honestly didn't gather much else on the situation. But that could be because it was a fuckin' crazy idea to send _me_ in the first place."

Quinn's lips pursed in a way he was insanely familiar with and he knew she was reigning in her temper a little. She looked quickly to the other students around them and lowered her voice. "We sent _you_ because _you_ owe her. You played a handsy little part in how single she suddenly is, and since Finn isn't stalking around punching you this time, _this_ was your karmic payback. Plus, you are too stubborn to have let her turn you away and too insensitive to tolerate excessive wallowing. Mercedes and I thought that was the necessary combination for getting her to pull herself together." She stared at him hard for a beat before continuing, "Plus, I knew you'd have nothing better to do."

Puck was glad that her also knowing he cared enough to agree to it in the first place didn't need to be said out loud.

He watched her turn fully towards the front of the class, trying to catch up with the lecture that had now been under way for several moments. He studied her profile and allowed himself a rare moment to remember the thorny past he shared with the beautiful girl beside him. He'd have never guessed joint concern for Rachel Berry would be what got them actually kind of talking again.

Feeling his stare, Quinn paused her note-taking to roll her eyes and turn back to him. "What?" she hissed.

"You like her."

Puck was amused as her jaw tensed and her eyes narrowed further. She obviously hated to hear the statement, but she wasn't denying it. Wonder of wonders. Finally she snapped, "You liked her first."

He chuckled as she went back to the lesson, writing furiously, leg tapping under the table in annoyance for the rest of class.

!

Rachel's day was going better than she expected. It was with deliberate effort that she walked around the halls with her head held high, smiling at the gleemates she passed (well, some of them) and confidently answering questions in class. It was a decision she made with each step to be okay, and so far it was working. And she hoped that meant it'd all become second nature again soon enough.

In the shower that morning, she'd allowed herself a few last tears and gave them each a specific dedication as they rolled down her cheeks. One for the relationship she'd had with Finn that was now lost; one for their friendship too. One for the regret she felt at her own actions in recent weeks. One for the resentment she still held for his. She cried a tear for Santana, who, unlike the rest of the club who seemed to be warming to her at least a little, would probably always be out of reach. She cried a tear for the knowledge that after years of torment from the pretty cheerleader, she still cared. She cried a final tear for the part of her future plans she'd devoted to Finn that would now never come true.

And then she was finished.

She had dressed herself carefully, even taking a moment to call Kurt quickly for advice on shoes (and to apologize for not calling him back the night before, and thank him for his concern, and assure him she was now fine. And ask how things were going with Blaine.)

She had mentally prepared herself as best she could for the torturous world of high school and the pay off was the wondrous feeling of control being restored in her life.

She didn't even flinch when Santana passed her in the hallway, smugly humming the tune she'd performed the day before. She just rolled her eyes and called the girl a witch under her breath.

Yes, she was Rachel Berry and she would be just fine. Eventually.

!

Stepping into glee later that afternoon, Rachel strode over to sit beside Mercedes.

"Girl, did you get a text from Kurt about this weekend?"

Rachel smiled at the evident enthusiasm on Mercedes' face. "Yes. I'll have to double check with my fathers, but I think there should be no problem with me going."

"No problem with going where?" Rachel turned to see Puck sit down on her other side.

"Kurt wants Rachel and me to go with him and a few of his new friends from Dalton to some dueling piano bar that just opened up north of Dayton."

"A bar?" Mercedes rolled her eyes at Puck's peaked interest.

"After 11 they kick out under-agers, but for the first part of the evening it's a regular restaurant and everything. But apparently an old Warbler got hired on as one of the pianists?"

"Huh. You'll have to let me know if it's worth the drive then, Berry."

Rachel nodded, a little confused by his interest, as Mercedes shot her a questioning glance. Sure, Puck had been occasionally nice to her in the one-on-one capacity since their brief fling last fall. But he hardly ever showed that side in front of their peers. And usually seemed to want rewarding for his rare kindness, typically in the form of making out.

But between his strange, yet surprisingly helpful, appearance last night and his casual interest in her life now, Rachel wondered if he would finally consider them friends.

She hoped so.

But she couldn't dwell on that as Mr. Schuester finally joined the now fully gathered glee club.

"Alright everyone, you know the assignment. Who's up today?"

"I'll go, Mr. Schue."

Every set of eyes, including Quinn's, shot to Sam with surprise as he made his way to the front of the room. Slipping his guitar strap over his shoulder, he cleared his throat lightly.

"So, I guess the unique quality I bring is, um, that I'm sort of mellow? Most of the suggestions Rachel made for me were by singer/songwriters, really laidback guys. And I liked that. Their smooth, but not overly complicated, and the music isn't about being showy but about something they have to say. I guess that's the part I relate to."

Mr. Schue smiled. "That's good, Sam. What are you going to perform for us today?"

"Well, I really liked this one song on the list. "Passing Afternoon" by Iron & Wine? I'm not sure I understood all of the words, but I still feel like I know what the guy meant." Sam shrugged a little.

The teacher gave an encouraging nod, and Rachel watched as Sam and Quinn shared a quick smile, before he began to play, his eyes falling shut as he sang.

_"There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon  
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon  
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her  
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms" _

Rachel smiled to hear Sam's voice, rich yet unimposing, dip into the lyrics. He came off as such a simple guy, but she suspected he was a deeper soul than he felt the need to share with just anyone. It sounded as good as she'd thought it would, and she was proud to have assessed one of her newest teammates so well.

_"There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days_  
_Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made_  
_And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings_  
_Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves"_

Rachel watched Quinn's face as the girl listened to her boyfriend sing. A wet, glasslike quality made the green eyes seem brighter, and Rachel couldn't help but think the song probably appealed to Sam because there was something of Quinn in it. Beautiful, but sad, and with a profound understanding of how fleeting everything was, even the most important things.

It was one of the few times Rachel could ever remember looking at Quinn and not seeing the ghosts of her own past with the girl. Or Finn's or Noah's, or Beth's. She just saw Quinn, and she suddenly hoped more than ever that they could be friends someday. Turning back to Sam, still singing so earnestly, she was happy for the two of them. She didn't know if it was the kind of high school romance that could last forever, but she thought Sam Evans might be exactly what Quinn Fabray needed, at least for now.

_"There are names across the sea, only now I do believe_  
_Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me_  
_But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know_  
_A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone"_

Strumming the song to a close, Sam's eyes finally opened and widened, as if he'd forgotten he was singing in front of 12 other people.

Rachel was the first to start clapping, and she smiled when a blushing Sam returned to his seat where a sweet, chaste kiss was offered to him by Quinn.

After no one else volunteered as ready for their solo assignments yet, their teacher moved the class towards preparation for the first group piece of the semester. Rachel was working with Artie, Puck, and a few kids from the band on the chorus of their mash up of "Float On" and "Tonight, Tonight" when they found themselves being dismissed for the day.

Gathering her things she felt genuine pride in herself for making it through the day so nobly. She'd literally been too invested in Sam's performance, and in her team's efforts at perfecting a song, to have been too constantly aware of her ex-boyfriend sitting towards the back of the room.

Glancing at Noah as he finished up a conversation with Mike Chang, she couldn't resist the urge to test the friendship waters.

"So, should I be expecting you for a viewing of _Ocean's 12_ this evening?"

Puck just looked at her like she was crazy long enough for an embarrassed flush to stain her cheeks. God, was she not supposed to acknowledge the night before? Were there rules to this tentative _whatever_ that she didn't know about? She began to panic, sure something cruel or mocking was about to be said in order to remind her they were not friends after all, when his lips pulled into a smile.

"No way. We're skipping to _Ocean's 13_. _12_ sucked."

Rachel was amazed at the hit of relief she felt in her chest.

Things really were different. Finally.

They headed towards to the door, Mike and Tina asking to join them. "That's fine, Chang. But I'm warning you now, you do not want to eat vegan. Pick up tacos. Trust me."

She shoved at Noah playfully, shaking her head as she assured him they had non-vegan food in the house.

And her smile only faltered slightly at the feel of two brown eyes boring steadily into her back.

!

The next few days passed similarly for Rachel. Focusing on school, on contributing to glee with her revised attitude, on blossoming friendships, she found her heartache dulling. Make no mistake she still loved Finn. The (thankfully) rare sightings of him outside of glee, especially those with Santana hovering at his side, were like a dousing of ice water, a slap in the face. But she always bounced back, and she always kept going. She'd once thought, in a passing moment of desperation, that she couldn't survive without Finn. But she had survived; she still was surviving. And she knew she was stronger than she'd originally given herself credit for because she refused to let the loss of him define her.

And right now, what she felt defining her was growth. Every day she reveled in the progress she was making, not just with how her fellow gleeks saw her, but in how she saw herself. She didn't just help Mike Chang perfect his solo of "When You Were Young" by the Killers because she wanted him to like her. She did it because she was honestly excited by his potential and couldn't wait to see him surprise everyone, including himself, with what kind of performance he could deliver. She hadn't expected she could be that devoted to someone else's talent or success, but she liked what it implied.

When he shared his piece with the club on Thursday, hamming it up at every opportunity (like linking Rachel and Puck's hands at the first verse, patting the mohawked boy's shoulder as he sang the line "talks like a gentleman," reducing Rachel to giggles at the preposterous suggestion) and dancing like pro around the class the whole time, he was a shining example of an absolute triple threat. His impeccable dancing amplified by a strong vocal delivery and incredible comedic timing; he was like the Fred Astaire of McKinley High in her eyes. Rachel couldn't have been prouder if she herself had been the one receiving the applause.

She even had the passing thought that day that she'd maybe like to do what Mr. Schue was someday. After she'd decided she'd won enough Tonys, of course.

Walking into the choir room Friday, she felt solid, comfortable, in a way she could not have predicted earlier that week. As the rest of the club began to shuffle in she was greeted warmly more often than not, and soon found herself included in a conversation with Quinn about an upcoming English project while they waited for glee to start.

Rushing in at the last possible moment was Puck, stopping in front of Mercedes and staring expectantly until the girl, with an expression of exaggerated annoyance, moved down one seat so he could sit beside Rachel.

Rachel shook her head. She really didn't know what had gotten into him lately.

"Alright, guys, let's get started. Puck, you asked to go first today?"

"Yeah, Mr. Schue."

Puck stood and strode with his typical swagger to whisper something to the assembled members of the band, before strapping on an electric guitar and facing everyone.

"I bring undeniable sex appeal to this group through my innate badassness."

There was a collective groan, sprinkled with good-natured laughing. Even Mr. Schue had to shake his head a little.

"The list Berry gave me was made up what she called 'Musical Lotharios.' Later, I had her explain to me that this meant 'Panty-Droppers.'"

"Noah!" Rachel could feel the blush color her cheeks.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Obviously my word choice. I was summing up what took her twenty minutes to say."

She rolled her eyes right back at him.

"Anyway, I've prepared a song by one of current music's most notorious ladies' men…John Mayer."

He smirked to them all as the music started, and when he joined in with his guitar he offered a teasing wink to Rachel, stepping towards her, before he began to sing.

_"No, I'm not the man I used to be lately_

_See you met me at an interesting time_

_And if my past is any sign of your future _

_You should be warned before I let you inside"_

He sounded magnificent. He had more of a leading-man voice than he was given credit for usually, but this style especially suited him. And if Rachel was being honest, the musical icon did too.

Noah Puckerman was widely known for loving (physically) well, and loving (physically) many. But Rachel knew there was also an incredible sensitivity to him. The kind of sensitivity that was far sexier than any of his innuendo or his boasting.

She briefly wondered if in his younger years, John Mayer ever tried to steal things…

_"Hold on to whatever you find, baby_

_Hold on to whatever will get you through_

_Hold on to whatever you find, baby_

_I don't trust myself with loving you._

_I will beg my way into your garden_

_And then I'll break my way out when it rains_

_Just to get back to the place where I started_

_So I can want you back all over again_

_I don't really understand"_

Rachel felt the blush returning to her cheeks as Puck continued to sing, his eyes trained on her the entire time. It was intense, and she didn't really know what to make of it. She offered him a shy smile, before her eyes flitted downward.

_"Who do you love?_

_Girl, I see through, through your love_

_Who do you love? _

_Me, or the thought of me? _

_Me or the thought of me?"_

As the song moved towards a more instrument-heavy close, Rachel's eyes lifted, only to slide without her permission to the tall boy seated on the other side of the room. Finn's gaze, eyes dark with hurt, and anger and confusion, didn't falter when she met it with her own. She saw the ripple at his jaw, the clenched fist resting on his knee, and she knew he wasn't over her.

But that didn't seem to do either of them any good.

"Excellent job," Mr. Schuester offered sincerely, clapping as Puck returned to his seat.

The boy gave an acknowledging nod before turning to Rachel. "What'd you think? Did I do it justice, Berry?"

She smiled though she couldn't shake the prickling feeling on the side of her face. She knew that Finn was still watching her closely. "Yes, Noah. I believe Mr. Mayer would have been quite proud."

"Yeah, yeah. My turn." Santana interrupted, stepping off the risers and into the center of the room with the confidence of a girl accustomed to getting her way.

Without preamble, she cued the band. The beat started, recognizable from a slightly older pop song but slowed slightly for a smoother R&B approach. Santana smiled in an almost predatory way, looking pointedly at Puck as she began to sing.

"_I know you like me, _

_I know you do_

_That's why whenever I come around_

_She's all over you_"

She looked briefly, and with a slight sneer, towards Rachel, before looking again to the boy she had a habit of always viewing as her own.

"_I know you want it_

_It's easy to see_

_And in the back of your mind_

_I know you should be on with me_

_Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?  
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?  
Don't cha, don't cha?  
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was wrong like me?  
Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?  
Don't cha, don't cha?"_

Rachel could feel the heat and color rise to her cheeks again, but not in a blush this time. She was certain that nothing else was inside her at that moment but fury.

She'd been naïve. She'd thought that, from the moment this girl had announced her past with Finn and instantly destroyed Rachel's world, the motivation must have been that Santana wanted what Finn and Rachel shared, or that maybe she just wanted Finn. But now, watching her perform an insult in song, even after she'd finally claimed Finn as her own, Rachel knew that it wasn't either of those things. Santana Lopez just hated her that much. She just wanted to cause her pain. She wanted to make trouble. And in her misinterpretation of the new friendship Rachel was forming with Puck, she'd thought she'd found her next weapon.

So caught up in her own anger, Rachel couldn't have noticed the irate expression of the boy beside her. She didn't turn her head slightly to see the clouds brewing in Finn's eyes. All she saw was Santana, smiling around her words in triumph, and the brightest of reds tinting her vision at the corners.

The music ended, but Santana herself wasn't finished, though she spoke rather than sang her final dig. "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?" She leaned closer in and smiled. "Finn did."

Rachel was out of her chair in an instant, stepping into the Cheerio's personal space and looking up with the closest thing to hate she was capable of burning in her eyes.

So many insults were boiling on the tippiest tip of her tongue. Remarks on Santana's promiscuity, her fake boobs and her mediocre grades. Comments on how girls liked Santana peaked in high school, while her own life would be more, so much more, after she left these halls.

But she couldn't say them. She wanted to, she really did. But she couldn't.

If Santana was going to hate her, she'd rather it be for no reason. Letting herself hate Santana back was giving up power over herself that she didn't want to lose. Giving Santana power she didn't deserve.

Without breaking her stare with the taller girl, Rachel forced her voice into a tone of near-normalcy. "Are we finished for the day, Mr. Schue?"

The teacher swallowed nervously. Unsure of what all had just happened, and how the group of teenagers he cared so much about could be a happy family one moment and at each other's throats the next.

"Yeah, Rach. Let's call it a week."

"Great." Turning abruptly, uncaring as to whether Santana had to step back to avoid the swish of her hair, she strode quickly out of the room and towards her locker.

Rachel Berry preferred storming out in anger rather than sadness any day.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you to all reviewers! This story has taken over my brain and it's so awesome to know that other people are enjoying this labor of love. And speaking of love….I want to assure you, that I do love Finn. (Or at least the potential I see in first season Finn, but I digress.) But, as I've obviously taken the position that the show, and its characters, are often too hard on Rachel, I very much also believe that the show, and its characters, are just as frequently too easy on Finn. That probably comes through here, but I implore solid-gold-Finn-fans to hang in there and keep giving the story a chance…

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

!

Rachel strode towards the parking lot, feeling a kiss of relief with every step she took, further distancing herself from the choir room. God, she was furious.

She'd been reevaluating a lot of things lately. Like, who she was deep down, and how she wanted to fit into her world. But a question she'd failed to ask thus far in her self-make-over plan was _why—_why had she let herself be a victim for so long? She really felt like figuring it out now.

Yes, she was right to walk away in there. She knew that there was no use fighting fire with fire. (Even if the idea of Santana Lopez on fire brought a hint of a smile to her lips.) But so help her, she had to figure out some way to fight back. Because she did not want to be a punching bag anymore.

She was determined to start making friends where she could, but where she couldn't? She was going to start standing up for herself.

It had always bothered her that Finn never did more in her defense (and with good reason. He was her boyfriend; he should have had her back.) But, really? She should have done more, too. She was so quick to support Finn on the rare instance he was the target of the others' mocking, but had she ever bothered to really defend herself?

No. She'd always shaken it off, fixating on the future to just get through the now. But that was no way to live. And Rachel Berry was better than that.

Oh yes, she was angry. But she was astonished to find the anger felt good. Very good. And useful…

"Hey, Rach, wait up."

She turned swiftly to see Mercedes racing towards her, Tina in tow.

She tried taking deep breaths to calm herself, but it was pointless. She was thoroughly wound up now. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" Tina asked, genuine concern overpowering what would have once only been asked out of dramatic curiosity. "Santana was way out of line."

Mercedes made a loud exhalation to indicate she thought Tina was understating things. "Girl couldn't even see the line."

"I'm, well, not fine, exactly. But I'm mostly just….outraged. Yes. I think that's the word for it."

"Is there anything we can do? I mean, aside from cutting her?"

Rachel and Tina's eyes shot to Mercedes with shock.

"Obviously kidding."

Rachel let out a breath of amusement, feeling a bit better that other people were angry on her behalf.

"You know, I think I'm just going to have a great weekend. Santana wants me to be miserable. She wants to belittle me until I hate myself, and convince me that no one could ever possibly want to be with me. But she's already failed. Finn dated me for six months. Just because he is with her now doesn't change that. And Noah, Noah's actually been a great friend to me lately. No matter what she thinks. I may not be a Cheerio and I may not have a boyfriend anymore, but I'd still rather be me than her. So I'm going to go home, put on something that will make me and Kurt happy, and then I'm going to go out, have fun, and enjoy being me. And she can just….kiss my A-S-S!"

Mercedes shared a look with Tina. "Did she seriously just spell that?"

Tina tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle her giggle. "Yeah. You know, Rachel, I think you can say it. Just this once."

"Say it! Say it! Say it!"

Rachel felt herself smile at their chanting. "Alright, alright. She can kiss my ass!"

She laughed as cheering erupted from the two girls. "Hmmm. I actually do think that helped a little bit."

"Good." Mercedes offered a smile and a shoulder nudge of solidarity. "So we're still on for meeting up with Kurt at 7?"

Rachel nodded. She meant what she said. She was going to get her vengeance the mature way, by having a great time, no matter what anyone said or thought.

Of course, that didn't mean she could entertain the visual of a certain cheerleader engulfed in flames while got ready though.

!

"What the hell was that, Santana?"

Finn wasn't going to lie. He wasn't entirely sure Santana was his girlfriend. They'd never talked about it, and he'd never really considered it before everyone just started to assume things.

He'd gone to her party on New Year's Eve, keyed up and desperate after his run in with Rachel on his way out of the house. Puck had naturally supplied the party with a fair amount of alcohol, and while Finn was in no hurry to be friends again with the guy who kept ruining his relationships, he was not above drinking the dude's beer.

When he woke up the next morning, it was to find that he'd spent the second half of the party with Santana's tongue down his throat (though this was strictly known from outside sources, since Finn had no memory of the event whatsoever) and had committed to taking the cheerleader to Breadsticks the following evening.

From there it was demands to be picked up and driven places and some occasional hand holding (which Finn agreed to mostly because her nails were like claws and he didn't want to risk injury by trying to pull his hand away).

To be honest, Finn was pretty sure he wasn't ready for another girlfriend so soon. He wasn't over what Rachel did to him. He wasn't over Rachel, period.

And he actually doubted that he really liked Santana at all.

But things had been happening so fast, and he just didn't have the energy to stop them. He was really just going along with it all, trying to get by, waiting to feel normal again.

In the meantime, though, whether Santana was supposed to be his girlfriend or not, her solo performance had really upset him. And not just because she'd been singing to Puck. (Seriously….what was it about that guy?)

He'd seen a great number of emotions on Rachel's face before, many that he couldn't even properly identify, but the rage he saw today was new and unmistakable. And he didn't like it.

"_That_ was me being a cosmic level of awesome, and Polly Pocket being unable to handle it."

"No. That was you just being mean. To everyone involved. Was it because you think she's dating Puck, and you're jealous?"

Finn felt his face scrunch with displeasure, a foul taste filling his mouth at the thought. Not that he cared if Santana was jealous, but the idea that Rachel and Puck were actually going out made his stomach turn.

Santana dismissed his question with a quirk of her lips and narrowed eyes. "Please. It wouldn't matter if she and Puckerman were married. If I want Puck, I can have Puck. Always." Something dark passed over her features. "And I will never, ever, be jealous of that shemale. Got it?"

Finn shook his head. "You're hot and all, no one's going to deny that, but Rachel's really pretty, too. And just because you try and say she isn't, doesn't make it any less true."

"Whatever." If Santana's eyes narrowed any more, Finn thought they might disappear. "I'm bored and I'm hungry, so let's go."

Without a moment's pause she started heading towards his truck. Groaning, Finn followed her, wishing that so many things were different.

!

"Did Mercedes help you with this?" A pale, slender finger indicated her carefully chosen articles of clothing.

Rachel laughed as she moved to hug the boy who was looking at her so appraisingly. "No, Kurt. I put this together on my own. With the sound of your voice nagging in my ears, of course, but on my own just the same."

"Well, you look great. As do you, 'Cedes. As always."

Mercedes shook her head fondly and gave her best friend an enthusiastic squeeze.

"So, you both know Blaine, obviously. And this is Phillip and Grant."

A soft chorus of "hello"s and "nice to meet you"s made their way around the room.

"Alright, Dayton's not getting any closer. Let's go." Kurt turned with substantial flare to lead them to his car. From his dramatic gesture Rachel guessed he was starting to feel more comfortable with at least a few of these Dalton guys, and she was glad for that. He went through the trouble of transferring so that he wouldn't have to suffer (or worse) for just being himself, and she didn't want nerves or fear to keep him from taking full advantage of this new opportunity.

Scooting as close to the door as possible, Rachel offered a small smile as the boy introduced as Grant slipped into the back of Kurt's SUV beside her.

"Sorry, I'll try not to squish you. I promise." He grinned at her and Rachel couldn't help but notice he had very pretty blue eyes.

"Well, I appreciate that."

She saw his mouth open to say something else when the Kurt-Mercedes battle for radio control escalated in the front seat, capturing his attention.

"Kurt, if you make me listen to Taylor Swift I swear I will bust up your car again."

An enraged gasp came from the driver's seat. "You wouldn't dare."

Rachel saw Mercedes purse her lips and raise an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"

"Fine. You can put Rihanna in. But I want you to remember this the next time you're the one driving. I'll expect the same level of courtesy."

Grant chuckled lightly as he turned to Rachel again. "Are they always so...vibrant?"

Rachel gave a little laugh herself as she nodded. "In my experience, yes."

"Well, it must be a lot of fun to be friends with them."

Rachel's smile widened. "You know? It really, really is."

!

By 9:30 that evening, Rachel was half-sitting at the edge of their booth as they took turns shouting out every tune they could think of.

So far, she'd been having a great time. Kurt's friends from Dalton were truly nice guys, both quick in wit and with easy smiles. Grant was especially fun to be around as he was undeniably friendly and supremely well-versed in musical theater, and the more time she spent watching the interchanges between Blaine and Kurt the more convinced she was that the feelings there were going both ways.

The venue itself was unlike anything they had in Lima. She had to shout to be heard by Mercedes, who was sitting right beside her, and it had taken nearly an hour for them to even be seated. But the atmosphere was amazing. The two pianists could seemingly play anything, as the requests coming in were wide ranging in both genre and era of origin, and her table of competitive singers had been rapidly brainstorming, trying to find something to stump the duo.

"Spacehog, "In the Meantime.""

"Possibly. Popular in its time, but less lasting."

"The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, "Maps"?"

"Too mainstream."

"Thom Yorke's "The Eraser" – do you think that's obscure enough?"

"Well, it's certainly the best we got." Blaine looked to Rachel, "Right?"

"Right." She wrote it quickly, but legibly, on a slip of paper. "Okay. I'm taking it up."

Standing quickly she navigated her way through the throngs of people, dodging the crowd as best she could and muttering "excuse me" to countless bodies that probably couldn't hear her. Approaching the Dalton graduate, now known to be named Matthew, sitting at the left piano, she slipped their request into his jar with a smile.

He motioned with his head for her to step in closer, never missing a note as he accompanied his counterpart in a 70's-lounge-like rendition of Will Smith's "Men In Black."

"You're with Blaine and Grant, right?" he shouts over the sound of his own playing, smiling at her in such a way that made her cheeks warm and her arms tingle.

She nods shyly. Was it a prerequisite at Dalton to be attractive and charming?

"Did you come up with something good?"

"I think so."

"Well, I look forward to be being bested by such a beauty." He shot her a wink.

She felt the heat of embarrassment spread from the top of her head all down her neck, as she offered him a shaky smile in return, before moving back to her table.

Slipping into her place beside Mercedes, she could still feel the blush staining her cheeks as she glanced up to try and rejoin the conversation, only to find Kurt watching her intently.

He quirked an eyebrow playfully before mouthing the word, "Hottie," and nodding towards the pianos.

She smiled at his antics, but didn't disagree.

Matthew, the talented, older pianist, _was_ a hottie. And he'd been flirting with _her_.

She continued to smile, even despite the rest of the table groaning in defeat, as the first few notes of their requested song began to be played. Someone thought she was beautiful.

Santana Lopez had no idea what she was talking about.

!

By the weekend's close she was in a much better mood. A lazy Saturday Bourne-Trilogy-Movie-Fest with Puck, Tina, and Mike (which appealed to everyone involved, with the sleek and extended action sequences, and the wonder of Matt Damon's face) had continued the elation of inclusion she'd felt throughout her night out with Kurt and Mercedes. Sunday was spent on homework and making dinner with her dads, and when her alarm went off for her work out Monday morning, she found herself to be exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster that was her life lately, but thankful to feel like she was finally really living.

Even if dragging herself from bed sucked.

She went through her getting-ready routine with as much gusto as she could gather and made it to school just in time for her early morning appointment with Ms. Pillsbury-Howell.

She couldn't help but notice the inquisitive expression with which the doe-eyed guidance counselor regarded her, almost immediately, as she sat across the desk from her.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Rachel. Did you have a nice weekend?"

Rachel nodded. "I did, thank you. Did you?"

Emma's smile widened. "I did as well, yes. Thanks." She adjusted her posture a little before continuing. "So, Rachel, what exactly did you want to talk about?"

Rachel leaned down to search her bag for her pet-projects folder. Grabbing the research she'd been working on, she handed it over.

"Well, as I mentioned to you before, I'd really like to look at what it would take to institute a no-tolerance policy for bullying on McKinley's campus. I've done some preliminary research on a national level for schools that have been acknowledged for such efforts, and have more information coming in from Dalton Academy, to reference what kind of statutes and outlined consequences are published and enforced in these situations."

Rachel watched as the counselor's wide, expressive eyes scanned the documentation she'd provided. Delicate eyebrows drew together concernedly, even as the woman gave a slight occasional nod.

"This is really good information, Rachel. I think we may have to add a little to it on a few points before we can really take it to Principal Figgins, but it's a great start. And the fact that you are a student, instigating this entirely on her own, really may be how we secure the right attention."

Rachel nodded, pleased that her ideas were being take seriously.

"Not that I don't think it's just generally a good policy to have, but what, if I may ask, brought all this on?"

The question was quiet but honestly curious, and Rachel studied her hands as she tried to find the best way to put it into words.

"It's no secret that I've been picked on since I started at this school, Ms. Pillsbury. Howell." Rachel added the second name as she looked up with a sheepish smile. But it quickly slipped from her features as she continued remembering what her life had been like since first grade. "Before this school, even. Almost my whole life. And I've often wondered why people didn't do more to help. Not my fellow students necessarily, because I understood that they didn't like me much. But teachers? I've always thought they were there to protect, to provide a certain degree of security, as well as educate. But none have ever stepped in. I guess as a rule they just haven't liked me much either."

She licked her lips and felt her eyes lock on the pamphlets to the left of the counselor, though whatever they said was lost to her as she continued to process her own thoughts. "I've gotten used to it, you know? To feeling scared and isolated. To relying only on myself. But that doesn't make it right. And I do believe things could be different. Things _should_ be different. It's not the schools fault I've never made friends. But I can't help but feel it is the school's fault that I've had so many enemies."

Rachel's voice, which had been low, grew stronger and louder as her most recent motivation came to mind. "And looking at the current events, the school has hit a new low. The fact that Kurt had to leave, for fear of his own safety, is unforgivable. The fact that such physical attacks had to be endured before the topic of intervening was even broached is inexcusable. I want to find a way to ensure that no one else has to go through that. I want to fix things so that Kurt could even come back if he wanted. Dalton's a great school, but if he stays there I want it to be because that's what he wants, not because he has no choice."

As she finished, Rachel could feel her frustration, over Kurt's situation, as well as her own, building a fire inside her, and she met Ms. Pillsbury-Howell's eyes with nothing but conviction. "I can't just_ let_ things stay like they are anymore. Maybe nothing will change; maybe there will always be slushies and threats and dumpsters. But it won't always be because no one tried to stop them."

The typically meek woman stared at her long and hard, and Rachel couldn't help but feel like maybe she was being really seen, being actually heard, for the first time.

Slowly, Ms. Pillsbury-Howell began to nod again. "Alright, Rachel. Let me do a little research of my own, get some questions answered, and then I'll let you know what I think the next step needs to be."

Rachel took a deep breath and offered a tiny, but true, smile. She'd do whatever it took.

!

It was weird how each day seemed to involve both times that went crawling by and other instances that slipped hastily away.

The moments when Finn was near, when she could feel the weight of his eyes or the chill of his avoidance, ticked away agonizingly slow, all while she squirmed and sweated under their pressure. She was trying to give him the space he asked for, give his new relationship the distance she herself needed, and honestly, she was also trying to avoid any unnecessary conflict with Santana for fear she would explode, but it was all so difficult when everything turned slow-motion as soon as he was in the room.

Glee was brutal at times. Spanish was borderline unbearable. It was agony to still hurt so much and still want him so desperately, and yet….

In many ways, in practically every other way actually, things were better now than ever.

The times that she could move through her life freely, without feeling the chains Finn still had on her heart dragging her down, were a blur of new experiences and laughter and so much growth.

She talked to Kurt every day on the phone. Puck was over her house near constantly, and she suspected that it was only in small part due to her fathers' large, flat screen TV and the lack of his "nagging mother." Mercedes and Tina called to chat, wanted to hang out, were eager to hear her ideas for glee. It was everything she'd always wanted, but assumed she could never have.

But nothing, no one, illustrated this point more so than Quinn Fabray.

For many years, the porcelain-faced blonde cheerleader was the walking, talking symbol of everything Rachel would always be missing. And while there was a large part of Rachel that could look beyond the pettiness and frivolity of high school, towards the bright lights of Broadway, she'd have been blatantly lying if she'd claimed to not be thoroughly envious of the picture-perfect existence Quinn seemed to stroll effortlessly through.

Even now knowing so much of it was an illusion, even after seeing how fast perfection could fall away, Rachel couldn't let go of the thought that there was just something special about Quinn. And she wanted desperately for Quinn to see there was something special about her too.

So when, a few weeks into the semester, their English teacher instructed the class to pair up for an oral presentation on a 20th century poet, and Quinn asked to be her partner, Rachel was stunned, but thrilled.

And when, 40 minutes into their first meeting, she found that they worked incredibly well together (they'd agreed on Sylvia Plath almost immediately, and had practically identical ideas on the best way to assemble their points and construct visual aides), she was ecstatic.

But, another 30 minutes later, when Quinn looked up from the note cards she was writing on, and wondered aloud if she could ask Rachel a personal question, that was the moment the petite brunette knew, to the truest extent, how much things had changed.

Quinn Fabray had never cared about Rachel's personal anything before.

"Of course, Quinn."

"Why don't you hate me?"

"I'm sorry?"

Quinn's eyes rolled up, but not necessary in a mean way. Which was new.

"Rachel, I've been horrible to you. So have Kurt and Mercedes. And Puck, well…" She made a face to indicate disgust. Then she shook her head a little to clear it, her ponytail shuddering at the motion. "Anyway, you wrote me that letter. You said all that stuff about wanting us to see your good points, about not wanting us to dislike you anymore. But, why? After the way we've treated you, why would you even want to be our friend?"

Rachel studied her companion's face. Quinn rarely gave much away, her pretty eyes often kept in careful control. But right now, there was earnest interest and a bit of genuine confusion. The moment reminded Rachel of a conversation, almost a lifetime ago, when word of Quinn's pregnancy had just gotten out and she'd wanted the blonde to know, for better or worse, she wasn't alone.

"Because I love glee. And glee isn't a_ thing._ Glee is you. And Mercedes and Noah. And even Kurt still." She sighed a little, cringing at how poorly she was expressing a rather powerful feeling. "It's thirteen people who may not have a single other thing but music in common… but the music is enough. It's enough to make me want to belong. No matter what."

She shrugged then. Because she really couldn't explain it any better than that.

She watched Quinn watching her, waiting to see if the other girl would laugh at her or call her stupid. But she didn't. Instead, a slow, small smile pulled across Quinn's face, and then the blonde went back to her note cards without another word.

And Rachel knew then that Quinn got it. Maybe more than anything else, Quinn finally got _her_.

!

"You are batshit crazy, you know that?" Puck stood peering into aisle 9's ice cream case, unsure of why he was even at the grocery store this early on a Saturday, let alone trying to find the vegan equivalent to his favorite dessert, all while Rachel's voice rambled out, loudly, through the speaker of his cell phone. Over the last few weeks he'd been spending more and more time with Rachel, and while she had been pleasantly surprised to find they made such good friends, he'd just been annoyed. It was massively cutting in to his sleep time, for one thing. "Non-dairy ice cream is ludicrous, Berry. Full on blasphemy."

Finally spotting the cookies 'n' cream, he carefully balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder to open the door and grab the container swiftly. "Yeah, I found it. But if this junk tastes as bad as that pizza did, you fuckin' owe me. And I'm not talking help-with-my-geometry-homework owe me, either."

Stepping back from the cooler, letting gravity shut the door with a bang, he was rolling his eyes at Rachel's insistence that he'd love her vegan shit if he gave it a chance (more of his paraphrasing, of course) when he turned to see Finn Hudson standing in the middle of the aisle, staring pointy daggers at him.

Instantly, Puck could sense that his days of avoiding a confrontation with the taller boy were over. But he did take comfort in the fact that his ex-best friend's hands were currently also full, so hopefully he would get some warning before the punching started this time.

"I gotta go, Berry." He spat into the phone, cutting her off mid-sentence. Then shaking his head slightly at the start of her lecture on phone etiquette, he interrupted again. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be there soon. You can yell at me in person." Puck ended the call without waiting for a reply and nodded to Finn as coolly as he could, considering the insane level of awkward they were hurrying towards. "Hey, man."

Ignoring the greeting, Finn looked away, head shaking and face contorted oddly in irritated disbelief. He sniffed roughly before bringing his eyes back to Puck's, his expression hard. "So, what, you two really are together now?"

Puck felt a little anger slip in at Finn's accusing tone, mixing with the already present unease and running the risk of overpowering it. "I think that either way, that's none of your business."

"A month ago she was my girlfriend."

"Yeah. A month ago. She's not now, and I seem to remember that being your call."

"Because she cheated on me! With you!"

Puck's jaw jutted forward a little as he bobbed his head, his irritation increasing.

Yeah, what he and Rachel did was wrong, but this guy was like a whiney broken record, and Puck wasn't exactly known for his sympathy.

"If that's what your problem is, then yeah, my bad. Berry and me, we fucked up, and we're both real sorry. But if you think I'm going to apologize for whatever we may or may not be doing now? Then you are going to be disappointed."

He saw Finn's body tense, and having known him for years, Puck could pick out every single physical tell for how furious he was. But Puck didn't care, he was beginning to feel the same way himself.

"Look, I still care about her, okay. I'm just working through stuff, and…God, why can't you ever just get your own girls?"

His own girls?

Yep. Now Puck was officially pissed.

"Excuse me?" He took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to remember some crap Rachel'd told him about anger management, but it didn't seem to be working fast enough, so he quickly decided to just screw it. "They weren't _your_ girls. You didn't own Quinn, and you've sure as hell never owned Rachel. Yeah, I'm the villain. I'm the best friend that got your girlfriend pregnant and helped her lie to you about it for months. I'm the jerk who convinced Berry I was the best way to work out her anger when trouble hit paradise. Every time you get a girlfriend I'm the asshole that fucks it up for you, right? Because I'm not a good guy; I'm not the hero. But, it just so happens that I'm the one your girlfriends turn to because _you_ made them feel like shit. So I'm pretty sure that means you're not the hero either."

They stared each other down a moment, hostility surrounding them and all the frozen desserts the Lima Meijer's had to offer.

Finally, Puck had enough. "Fuck this." He moved to brush passed Finn, hesitating just a moment at the guy's side. "You know, if you still care about her, being Santana's lap dog probably isn't the best way to show it. But then again, lying to her for six months was a shit way to say, 'I love you.'"

!

Puck was fuming when he finally arrived at Rachel's house, and she wasn't sure what could have possibly happened in the fifteen minutes since she'd spoken to him that would account for the dramatic change in his demeanor. Rushing by her as soon as she opened her front door, he headed for the kitchen, practically stomping the entire way, where he began shoving his purchased items into their respective places (freezer, fridge, pantry) with much more force than was necessary. His brow was pinched into a scowl, his eyes impossibly dark, and the few words she could make out as he muttered to himself were the worst that he knew. Which really was saying something.

"Noah?"

His head snapped up, eyes quick to find hers, at the sound of his name. She'd said it so hesitantly, reluctant to turn his obvious wrath onto herself, but with great genuine concern, and she could see him soften at her worried expression.

He swallowed before half-smiling at her sheepishly. "Hey. Sorry. I'm just kind of worked up."

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Puck let out a humorless laugh as he stepped back to lean against the counter and face her fully. "I just ran into Finn is all. And in case you didn't already know, your ex is a fuckin' bitch."

"Noah! Language!"

"Sorry, Berry, but that's what he is." His fingers strummed along the granite surface with a steady, aggravated energy. "Seriously. Him and Santana deserve each other."

Rachel tried to hide her wince at his words, but the sudden guilt in his eyes let her know he caught it.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into our mess, Noah. I shouldn't have kissed you, as much for your sake as his."

Immediately Puck began to shake his head, his voice filling with a rare sincerity. "Don't do that. Don't put this all on yourself. I was a willing, hell, an eager, participant. And he's no saint anyway." She opened her mouth, unsure if she wanted to refute his point or agree with it, but he didn't let her speak a word. "We all messed up. He's just the only one still throwing a fit like a giant, tall-ass baby."

He looked at her hard, like he expected some acknowledgement that she accepted his words as fact. When she didn't respond he let out a sigh.

"Besides, the cow he's having now is more about thinking we're dating than anything that's actually happened recently."

"What? Finn thinks you're my boyfriend?" Rachel's voice was equal parts incredulous and amused. The thought was totally ridiculous...wasn't it?

"Yep. Which somehow violates the rules of your break up in his tiny little brain."

"But he's with Santana." She stated it like it was obvious (which it was, to everyone but Finn apparently), and like it should negate everything Puck was saying.

It had to, otherwise Rachel Berry was about to be revisited by her newest friend: fury.

The boy before her merely shrugged. "Finn really doesn't seem to have any issue with double standards."

"So he can move on, but I can't?" she heard her voice picking up a slight hysterical quality, but she was too preoccupied with Finn's audacity to try and calm herself back down. "He can parade around holding hands with the, the, the _skank_ that he slept with, and lied to me about, initiating the whole chain of events that would destroy our relationship, but I'm not allowed to take comfort in a meaningful, albeit surprising, friendship without him making objections and taking offense? And yet _I'm_ the one who everyone thinks is obnoxious, unfair, selfish?"

She let out an enraged growl as she stomped her foot deliberately. "His hypocrisy knows no bounds."

Puck, unfazed by her rant, just nodded. "Told you. He's a fuckin' bitch."

She didn't bother to scold him for his use of profanity this time (which Puck understood to mean she was really upset) as she forced her breathing to slow and glanced at the clock.

"The others won't be here for another 40 minutes. I need to sing this out."

He motioned for her to lead the way to her bedroom, where his guitar was already waiting. "What'cha have in mind, Berry?"

She smirked as she mentally browsed her repertoire. Yes, she thought some angry-chick-rock from the 90's would work just fine. Perhaps a few times through Garbage's "Special" (which upon consideration seemed to magically have the exact lyrics needed to convey all manner of her frustrations with one Finn Hudson) would restore her sanity. Perhaps…

!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: You reviewers are amazing. I'm updating this story with greater frequency than I initially anticipated, and I'm pretty sure it's because of how thoroughly awesome it feels when I get reviews in my inbox! So please keep them coming...

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or concept of Glee, nor any of the songs referenced in this story. I do own a blue Chevy Aveo named Smurfette. But, that seems off topic.

!

Finn sat on the harsh wood of the Wapakoneta High School gymnasium bleachers, unmindful of the growing crowd. His foot was tapping against the sticky floor, his entire body practically vibrating with adrenaline, all while his mind still raced from his earlier encounter with Puck.

Their argument had left him in a frenzy. After Puck had walked away, Finn had quickly shoved the grocery items he'd been picking up for his mom onto the nearest shelf and stormed out of the store, practically blinded by rage.

He'd driven his truck aimlessly for awhile, muttering to himself all the things he could have said, _should _have said, to that smug punk of a former best friend.

He barely noticed that he was late for giving Santana and Brittany a ride, and as he dropped them off to board the McKinley bus for Cheer Regionals he realized he hadn't heard a single word of Santana's berating him along the way.

Following the bus down by himself, unseeing the world outside his truck for the 30-minute ride, he continued to go over every bit of the heated interaction, hoping to remember anything that would confirm what he wanted so desperately to be true: that Puck was full of it.

Because Finn hated that the shorter boy had gotten the last word.

But he hated it even more that it felt like there was so much truth in it.

Now he sat, waiting to watch the Cheerios perform (though he really couldn't care less about their next trophy, he'd been told he _had _to come), still feeling like he needed to burst out of his own skin, needed to get away from literally _everything_ before he exploded from all the pressure he felt building inside.

He was all caught up in this feeling of unraveling when the skin on the back of his neck prickled upwards, and the air around him shifted abruptly, sharpening somehow. Without even seeing her, he knew _she_ was near.

He didn't notice that his leg stopped its bouncing (to the great relief of the family sitting to his right), he didn't _consciously_ start to search for her, straightening his back and straining his neck to look over and around the masses. His body was just on autopilot; craving her had become such second nature to him.

Down at the bottom of the stairs and one section over, he finally saw several familiar faces. Mercedes was helping Artie align his wheelchair with the edge of the row, Tina smiling as she chatted with them both from her place to the side. Finn felt his fists clench at the site of Puck strolling up behind them, talking with Mike. He felt a new surge of madness seeing the guy so relaxed, so carefree, while he himself was still reeling.

His anger almost even kept him distracted enough to miss her small frame approaching their gleemates, but once his eyes caught sight of her he couldn't look away.

She was smiling brightly up at Sam as they joined the others, a joyous expression on her face that he recognized intimately but hadn't been able to witness up close in so long. She had several large white poster boards clutched in her mittened hands and he watched, amused despite himself, as she passed them out to the others, each board covered in large gold stars with Brittany and Quinn's names written neatly in red glitter. She _would _make signs to cheer on cheerleaders.

He was mesmerized as she laughed easily at something, looking like she fit so naturally. And he hated the jealousy, a slow nauseous burning inside, that he felt at not being included, at not hearing the intoxicating sound of her giggles, at the sight of her seeming to be so fine without him.

The jealousy kicked up another notch, or twenty, when Puck helped her out of her coat and pulled on her arm gently to guide her to sit pressed to his side, fitting snuggly between him and Mercedes.

Yes, he had been the one to end things. He was well aware of that. And it honestly wasn't an attempt at payback or because he'd just wanted to hurt her, though he knew that it had. He'd walked away in the hall, and again at the Christmas tree lot, because he'd felt like he _had _to. Just seeing her rebroke his heart over and over again, and he truthfully could not stand it.

But he hadn't realized in his desperation to just lessen his pain right then, that he'd get to this moment, that he could feel like he did right now. Where the hurt was just as real, but seemed far more permanent. He hadn't considered she might move on. Obviously, without even knowing it, he'd fully expected her to wait for him.

He was vaguely aware that the competition had started, that the thundering bass was not the sound of his own devastated heart's beating but rather the electronic noise the Cheerios had chosen as background for their taking of another title. He could sense the enthusiasm of every one else, all taken in by what was assuredly another breathtaking Sue-Sylvester-engineered spectacle.

But all he could see was_ her_. And she looked so far away.

!

Rachel could say a lot of not-so-nice things about Ms. Sylvester.

She _wouldn't_ say them, of course (because she was terrified of the woman), but she totally had plenty of material for making harsh complaints against the hard-as-nails Cheerios coach.

However, there was one thing about the woman that she couldn't help but admire: she sure knew how to put on a show.

Watching the Cheerios phase into the second cheer break of their 15 minute routine, Rachel was in awe of the precision and the artistry with which every single Cheerio executed the choreography. Sue's drill-sergeant approach seemed to foster awful human beings, but it certainly also created incredible performers.

Out there, Brittany was a force, not a person. She was an extension of the music and pure energy itself.

Simultaneously strong and graceful, Quinn looked and moved and _floated_, like this was what she was born to do.

And Rachel hated to admit, but Santana, too, was truly amazing.

She bumped her shoulder with Mercedes', turning her face just a fraction to share a grin of pride for their fellow gleeks, when she noticed something at the edge of her vision that made her stomach churn instantly.

Finn's stare was heavy, like a hand on her cheek, and she didn't know how long he'd been watching her, but his face was as intense as she'd ever seen it. He did not even bother to look surprised or ashamed when she turned her head further to look over her shoulder and caught his eyes through the crowd.

Judging by the way his shoulders were set, he was upset, angry, and she figured that the confrontation he'd had with Puck earlier was probably still to blame.

Remembering what Noah told her, she had to fight the urge to glare at him.

Sure, it had driven her crazy when she realized he was so dismissive of their relationship that he could move on so quickly. But it drove her crazier now to think that he didn't believe she had every right to do the same.

Facing front again, her brain was too filled with frustrated rants and confused longing to concentrate on the continuously impressive performance unfolding before her eyes anymore.

She knew that Puck could sense her sudden change in demeanour, feeling his concern as he glanced her way from the corner of his eye. Leaning even closer towards her, dipping his head in low, he put his lips just behind her ear to whisper, "What's wrong?"

She shuddered at the feel of his warm breath.

A bit of a ruckus sounded behind them, and Rachel didn't get to answer as she followed Puck's now distracted line of sight to the tall barrelling frame of Finn Hudson pushing his way down the bleachers and out the side door.

"Never mind. I think I get it."

Rachel frowned at the infuriated pucker on his lips as he breathed in heavily through his nose, a telling ripple of his jaw at his exhale. "Noah." she whispered and shook her head slightly, then tilted it towards the pack of Cheerios sweeping through their complicated finale.

She forced herself to watch as the cheerleaders finished, finding a triumphant smile upon Quinn's face as their victory already seemed certain. She clapped with all her might, hooting and squealing along with Mercedes for their friends, refusing to let her thoughts wander too far from this moment, from this room.

She couldn't let her mind follow the boy who'd just stormed out. It hurt too much.

!

Quinn pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to rub away the headache she felt was inevitably coming her way.

Brittany was sweet, most of the time, and oblivious, pretty much always. But Quinn couldn't even blame these things for the girl's automatic inclusion of Santana in the head Cheerio's impromptu victory party. Because why wouldn't Santana be invited?

Not even Einstein would have deduced that Quinn was wary of her frenemy (a word she detested, but could not deny applied), Santana, joining the celebration because she had already invited Rachel.

No one could have known that she had literally been picking "freaky loser" Rachel Berry over her feared and popular second-in-command.

No one would believe it.

It was unprecedented.

Insanity.

But it was also very true.

Quinn was truly touched (though she had no intention of outwardly showing it) that such a number of her fellow glee clubbers had come to see and support her. Mercedes and Sam were one thing. Artie, obviously, was there for Brittany. But Puck and Mike and Tina? And signs to cheer her on? She knew that was all Rachel's doing.

She was a little thrown by how different she felt in terms of Rachel these days. But after the hurricane of her life last year, Quinn was a bit better at just going with the flow when necessary. And the flow had wanted Rachel at her party.

Not realizing at the time that between the crowd and the drinking and Santana's frequent need to be vicious, she may have been inviting her new friend to a powder keg.

She'd spent the last two hours running interference where she could (chatting with Rachel in the kitchen while she knew Santana was sweeping at beer pong downstairs, then distracting her cheer-mate with compliments in the living room after spying Rachel and Tina heading towards the back deck, all while Sam was charged with keeping tabs on Finn), and trying to just brace herself for the drama.

As she saw Puck strut into the living room with his guitar, she naively had no idea that it would be the spark that set things off.

The group in the room was small. She was seated in the recliner, talking with Sam and Brittany. Artie, Tina and Mike, plus a few cheerleaders and a couple hockey guys (but no one who had ever given the glee club much trouble), were also just sitting around comfortably. Puck positioned himself near Artie, and started to play a song that Quinn knew she recognized but couldn't immediately place.

As if drawn to any place music was, she noticed Rachel wander in with Mercedes, and caught the instant smirk that wrapped around Puck's words as he started to sing at the sight of her.

"_Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound._

_I know they're watching, they're watching."_

He gave a jerk of his head to get Rachel to move over to join him, and looked expectant as he let her take the next line.

"_**All the commotion,**__** the kiddie like play**_

_**has people talking, talking."**_

Quinn watched the two of them melt into the song, obviously enjoying themselves in a familiar way. She knew they'd been spending an inordinate amount of time together, but it never occurred to her that they'd be spending it singing. But she supposed she _should_ have guessed that.

And their voices really did blend nicely.

Quinn noticed Rachel let Puck sing the first hint of the chorus on his own, a flush staining her cheeks.

"_You__, your sex is on fire."_

If that line got her, Quinn couldn't help but wonder how the girl spent any time at all with Noah Puckerman without blushing. In her own experience, almost everything out of that boy's mouth was dirty.

"_**The dark of the alley, the breaking of day"**_

"_The head while I'm driving,__ I'm driving." _Puck winked at Rachel playfully, which made Quinn laugh as it earned him a smack on the arm from the tiny brunette.

"_Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale."_

"_**Feels like I'm dying, dying"**_

Rachel sang the chorus with him this time, as did a few others around the room, and Quinn took a moment to really enjoy the out-of-nowhere concert. It was nice seeing Rachel cut loose and enjoy herself, this was the girl Quinn wanted to be friends with. It was also interesting, and unexpected, to watch Puck be his admittedly charming himself without any nefarious hidden agenda. And it was mostly such a relief to be so near them both and not feel a single ounce of resentment or anger, despite all their history, as Sam slipped his warm arm around her shoulder.

"_**Hot as a fever**__**-"**_

"_Rattling bones._

_I could just taste it."_

"_**Taste it." **_

"_If it's not forever."_

"_**If it's just tonight,**_

_**Oh, it's still the greatest."**_

"_The greatest, the greatest."_

Quinn heard herself joining in as they got to the chorus again, but the words died on her lips quickly as Puck's playing came to an abrupt halt.

Finn's sudden and angry entrance, and immediate shouting, sucked the room dry of anything but tension.

"What the hell is your problem? Once, even twice a day isn't enough for you? You have to rub _this_ in my face everywhere?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed as she noticed Finn's gesture and distaste on the word "this." What was he talking about? He didn't think…?

She was momentarily distracted as she saw something dangerous (familiar) light up in Puck's eyes, but he never even got a chance to respond because Finn had already turned his anger on to Rachel.

"And you? Are you _trying_ to be a heartless bitch now?"

Someone, maybe Rachel (maybe everyone), gasped.

"Finn, I-"

Quinn watched Rachel sputter helplessly, a few tears already in her eyes, and winced at what felt like a very familiar scene.

"Save it, Rachel. "Sorry" means nothing from you."

Wide eyes flickering between them, Quinn felt a little bad for the honest anguish on her ex-boyfriend's face, but found she was far more irate at the humiliation and pain he'd just shoved upon Rachel, who she knew didn't deserve it.

There was a tense moment of silence as Finn rushed out. The space that he had occupied seemed to still be moving with the aftershocks of his angry energy, and Quinn took in Puck's heaving shoulders and Rachel's crestfallen face, and she couldn't help but replay her own memory of an afternoon over a year ago, when she'd looked very much the same as Finn walked away from her.

Lost in her thoughts for a moment, Puck's quick movement towards the way Finn had gone startled her and she felt Sam's hold tighten in an attempt at comfort.

"Noah. Don't."

Quinn cringed at the quiver in Rachel's voice.

"Berry, no. That guy desperately needs my fist in his face. Right. Now."

Rachel didn't say anything more; she just placed her hand lightly on Puck's forearm, her large brown eyes pleading with him.

Quinn watched, amazed, as after a long moment of their eyes locking, the fight left her (other) ex-boyfriend's body and his face fell in resignation.

She was starting to see where Finn's jealousy may have been coming from.

She was relieved that she felt none.

She noticed Rachel squeeze at Puck's arm, some further message Quinn couldn't understand radiating from her eyes, and then the tiny girl turned and followed Finn's path, her face a mix of sadness and determination.

Puck slipped out the other way before Quinn could think to stop him.

"Wow."

She turned to look at Sam's face as he spoke up beside her. "Not the fight we were expecting, huh."

Quinn nodded slowly, simultaneously reassured that this time she had no part to play in the madness, and sad that things could never just be simple anymore.

After a few calming breaths, she surprised herself as she let a snort of cynical laughter out.

At Sam's questioning raised eyebrow she explained. "As awful and awkward as that was, it was still far better than the alternative. Santana throws things."

!

She found him outside, kicking at the pile of snow at Quinn's curb, words she couldn't make out rumbling angrily in the air around him.

She'd initially been so shocked, so hurt, at his outburst. She stopped Noah from coming after him because she'd believed, in that moment, that Finn was hurting enough. That he didn't need a black eye or busted lip on top of it.

But with every quick step she took to catch up with her former boyfriend, her earlier rage, and a new degree of indignation, piled up within her, casting an unsympathetic light upon Finn, and upon what just happened. And it was with furious eyes that she strode towards him now. The night air was cold, but tucked into the warm embrace of her wrath she couldn't feel it.

He turned at the sound of her steps, surprise taking a moment to cover the anger on his own features, and she took that pause as the opportunity to slap his face, with all her might, before she began ranting.

"You, Finn Hudson, do NOT get to speak to me that way. Or to Noah, for that matter. I do not know what your issue is at this particular moment, but as a whole, this petulant child act has got to stop."

Recovering from her blow, Finn's expression was back to livid. "You don't know what my issue is? Rachel, you can't be serious." His voice had a new strain to it as it climbed in volume. "You were just singing about your sex life, with the guy you cheated on me with, in front of an entire party!" He glared at her, his shoulders appearing to slump under the weight of his anger.

"No, it is _you_ who cannot be serious. It was just a song, Finn. A very popular song. One that I happen to know so well only because _you_ put the album onto my iPod last summer. To assume that I'm sleeping with Noah because we sang a song together is absurd. To suggest that I've been sleeping with him at all, and that I would then sing about it to a room full of people, is thoroughly and completely ludicrous. And severely insulting, especially from someone who really, _really,_ should know me better than that."

"I hardly know anything anymore, Rachel. You said you loved me, you said you wanted us to go the distance, and I _believed_ you. But then, you got so mad at me, and just went and ruined everything by kissing him. And you said you were sorry, over and over again, and you were everywhere with your big sad eyes, but now you're _with_ him and what am I supposed to think, huh? I don't understand how any of this even happened. All I know is that it still hurts and that I'm still angry and that I hate, HATE, seeing you two together. "

She eyed him with a mix of irritation and pity. "I'm not _with_ him, Finn. But more importantly, I'm not _with_ you anymore either. And I _am_ sorry, both that I hurt you then and that you're still hurting now. But I am hurt too. I am also angry. And you're _with_ Santana. But unlike you, I'm not shouting about it in the middle of a party or throwing hurtful accusations around in public."

His body coiled and reared and paced with frustration. "I know! Okay? I get it. I see that I'm acting crazy, but I can't help it. God, Rachel I just…,"his voice fell so low it was almost a whisper, "I just miss you so much."

Her own response was just as quiet. "I miss you, too."

He took a step towards her; his body then stilling a moment save for his slightly quickened breaths. His eyes, that had always been a weakness of hers, stared into hers, with longing and need showing through the sadness and the pain.

She felt her breath catch as his gaze fell to her mouth, and he licked his lips in a familiar way that sent spiralling bursts of heat outward from the pit of her stomach. He leaned in, so slow, his eyes falling shut as she felt her own drift closed, and then his lips were on hers and every inch of her skin was melting and her heart was pounding and there was blinding white light behind her eyelids and…no, no, "No!"

She pulled back swiftly, new tears instantaneously blurring the sight of him.

"No." Her voice was firm, but her body was shaking. "You have Santana. And I won't let you make me that girl again, Finn. Not like I was when you were with Quinn. Especially not after everything you've said about me and Noah."

He shook the stupefied expression off his face and reached for her again. She took a step back.

"I don't want Santana. I never have. That just happened, Rachel. Like an accident. I can fix that; give me ten minutes. But God, I see it now. How you were right. The way for us to get passed this isn't time apart. I don't want to be without you anymore. I can't risk losing you, and this space? It's not helping."

She shook her head. She couldn't believe what he was saying, what she was feeling, any of it. "An accident, Finn? How do you start dating someone on accident?" She took deep breaths, forcing her eyes shut to block out the desperate wanting on his face. "Nevermind, that's not important. What's important is that I see now how it all fell apart. We, we thought we were fine before Santana, before Noah, but we weren't. I was so upset to find out you lied, not because I was surprised, but because I wasn't. That's what killed me about it, and why it was such a big deal that it was her. Because I _wasn't_ over last year, Finn. And I _didn't_ trust you not to hurt me."

She watched confusion, and a little shame, cross his face. And she knew there was guilt in her own eyes too. "And you weren't over last year, either. Not just the betrayal of Quinn and Puck, but even me and Jesse. And you didn't trust me, or you wouldn't have lied. Not for so long. If you truly believed I loved you, you would have come clean, trusting that I wouldn't walk away."

"No, it's not like that. I trusted you. And I want to trust you again. Rachel, I lo-"

She shook her head, begging him with her expression not to say it. She couldn't hear that he loved her and still say the words she needed to.

"I know you do, Finn. And you have to know that I…that I do too. But I think we both kind of know that's not enough right now."

She felt a sob escape her throat without permission. She hadn't wanted him to ever see her like this again, falling to pieces over him. But no matter how much conviction she had to stay strong, she'd always be so breakable in his hands. She loved him too much not to be.

But_ they_ weren't right. Not now. Not like this.

She looked into his eyes, begging for understanding, and then stepped up on the tips of her toes to lift her lips to his cheek. She felt him gulp at the contact and had to squeeze her fingers into tight little fists to keep from reaching up to his shoulders and clinging on to him.

It was with great difficulty that she finally tore herself away, suddenly feeling the bitter temperature of the air.

She turned and ran inside, as quickly as her legs would carry her, wondering the whole way what on earth she'd just done.

!

The text she'd received from an unknown number, asking her to please take Rachel home, had surprised Mercedes. Partly because she hadn't remembered her phone being on vibrate, so hello, but mostly because she was caught off guard that Noah Puckerman still had her number (she'd erased his after their blink-and-you'll-miss-it fling ended last year.) But, she'd been a front row witness to the explosion in Quinn's living room and could totally see why the boy had needed to bail. The anger (and something else, dark and intense, that she couldn't name) in his eyes during the outburst had been pretty easy to justify.

She felt awful for him.

And honestly, she did feel a little bad for Finn too. Though he'd obviously been all kinds of wrong tonight, he really had looked like he was about to start bawling just as soon as he stopped yelling, so she knew the guy was really hurting.

But mostly she just _felt_ for Rachel.

People seemed to always kick her when she was down. (Herself included, once upon a time.) And they tended to do it publicly.

After sending a confirmation to Puck, she'd excused herself from her conversation with a sympathetic-looking Quinn, and gone to find their friend. As she stepped through the main hall the sound of the front door opening startled her, and a very cold, very weepy Rachel stood shaking in the entryway.

Without saying much Mercedes had helped Rachel gather her things and then guided the girl to her car. Rachel's crying hadn't stopped, but had gotten so quiet, somehow making her seem even smaller than usual.

Mercedes could hardly stand it.

Despite their recent bonding, and it was true bonding at that, Mercedes and Rachel hadn't talked much about Finn, or about how that relationship had fallen apart. Mercedes knew most the details, thanks to Kurt of course, but the depths of the pain the girl was feeling had been unclear.

Until now.

She'd quietly asked if Rachel wanted to spend the night, unsure of whether or not the girl really should be left alone, and immediately texted Kurt for next-day back up once a silent nod indicated agreement.

Now they were sitting on Mercecdes' bed, both in pajamas, in an uncomfortable silence.

Once upon a time that would have been because they had nothing to say to each other, but Mercedes was sure that wasn't the case anymore.

Finally, she couldn't take it. "Girl, what happened with Finn?"

Dark brown eyes shot to hers at the sound of_ his_ name, but after a moment of waiting for words, all she got was a shrug.

"Uh, uh. No. This is not the time for you to try silence on. You are obviously upset, and you should talk about it. Open that big mouth, and use those big words." Mercedes tried to look both stern and concerned simultaneously, but she felt her own face fall into something ridiculous instead. Regrouping, she opted for just the latter as she continued. "Rachel, you told Quinn you wanted friends. Well, you got 'em. Me, Kurt, Quinn, Tina. Geesh, even Puck. We're here for you, and that doesn't just mean when it's all fun and music. Friends help when things suck. Let me help you now."

Mercedes watched Rachel's eyes fill with fresh tears, but the girl was quick to brush them away as she nodded her head firmly.

Rachel took a deep breath, her voice sounding thick and unfamiliar. "He kissed me."

Mercedes felt her eyebrows shoot up.

"He was so mad at first. I mean, you heard him. He had it in his head that I was….you know...with Noah. Like together, and_ together_. And he said it was making him crazy."

"Yeah, I noticed." Mercedes commented wryly, but nodded for Rachel to continue.

"I explained to him that I'm not…that Noah and I aren't…, but I was mad too, so I reminded him that he's not my boyfriend anymore anyway. I think I was trying to make the point that he had no right to act like that? I can't remember what all I said, it happened so fast."

Mercedes frowned at the delicate hiccup that cut Rachel off, indicating her friend was back to crying hard enough to hinder speech.

"He said he missed me. And of course I miss him too. The next thing I knew we were kissing and…it just….I had to pull away."

Eyebrows lowered in confusion, Mercedes waited for her to fill in the holes.

"He kissed me twice when he was with Quinn, you know. Once was actually my first kiss. And it felt wrong, because I knew he had a girlfriend, but it also felt right because it was_ him,_ and I was already so certain we could be amazing together. If he'd just give us the chance."

Deciding an interruption would be the opposite of helpful, Mercedes chose not to comment on this revelation, but she couldn't help a flash of indignation on both Quinn and Rachel's behalves.

"But now…" Rachel sighed. "We got to try that relationship I was so sure of, that I wanted so badly, and, in some ways, it really was amazing. But it still failed. Somehow, I'm the other woman again. And for the first time ever, when Finn kissed me, it just felt wrong. Only wrong. So I had to walk away."

Rachel's face crumbled, her cries growing more desperate. "I love him so much. But, I still hate that he slept with Santana, and that he lied about it. I still kissed Noah and betrayed him. _Nothing's changed_. And him taking me back now, just because he doesn't want to see me with someone else, wouldn't fix anything. And me running back to him, when I'm still so…devastated…? I love him, but I can't risk us failing like that again. I won't."

Mercedes pulled the girl into a hug as she tried to calm the tears. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. For all the bad you're feeling. But it'll get better. You'll be okay."

She cringed at her clichés. She knew she didn't have words that could help here; she'd never loved anyone like Rachel obviously loved Finn, and nothing in her life had ever been so complicated, so she had no wisdom to share, no experienced insight on what could make this any better.

But, pulling back, she could offer what had always helped soothe her troubles.

"Hey, do you maybe want a glass of water or something?"

She was alarmed at how quickly Rachel's head shot up to face her, eyes wide and questioning.

Mercedes felt a little self-conscious under the gaze, she hadn't meant to offend her or anything. "It's just whenever I'm sad or upset, drinking a cool glass of water helps calm me down." Mercedes finished with a shrug.

A small smile spread across Rachel's face, the first Mercedes had seen in hours. "Me too. It was a trick my dads always used….it still works."

Mercedes nodded, with a tiny smile of her own, getting up to lead the way to the kitchen.

That night, after a few hours of talking about everything else but boys, and several more Rachel-smiles, Mercedes pulled out her phone as she lay waiting to fall asleep.

She sent a group message:

"our girl will b fine."

She smiled when an almost immediate response came from a now not-quite-unknown number:

"good."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: A giant thank you to all of you who have been reviewing. Each and every message brings a smile to my face, and I'm so glad so many have taken a moment to share their thoughts. Thanks for riding along on this crazy journey with me… hope you are still enjoying it, there's lots more to come!

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own this stuff.

!

Rachel woke the next morning with dried tear tracks on her cheeks and a refreshed resolve to put all her recent pain behind her. She didn't know what would happen between her and Finn in the future, all she _could_ know was that they weren't together now. And while she thought she'd been doing a relatively decent job of making the best of it up to this point, it was time to take that up a notch. Mercedes, who Rachel was discovering to be a truly wonderful listener as well as an incredible friend, had gotten her through the night. But, by the new light of day, it was her turn to take care of herself.

She was still Finn-less. But, to be honest, having had a say in it this time felt liberating.

She hoped that, eventually, she and Finn might find themselves on the same page, but in the meantime what she wanted most was for both of them to become better versions of themselves.

Kurt arrived shortly after she woke up, and kept her entertained while Mercedes went to church. She figured he'd gotten a full report from Mercedes on why she was there and what had happened, but while it once might have struck her as gossiping, these days it just seemed like their discussion of her life was part of looking out for her, caring about her.

He himself had exciting news. A study session with Blaine had spawned a _moment._ Kurt reported that after several hours of studious concentration, their eyes caught and held a long moment, and he was certain his face had "kiss me" written all over it. Apparently the swoon-worthy Warbler's expression suggested he got the message loud and clear too, but before the movie magic could kick into gear, the lounge was invaded by a trio of sophomores working on a science project.

Still, Kurt thought it all seemed very promising.

Once Mercedes was free again, the three spent the day lounging lazily (with Rachel's first Project Runway marathon) before hitting the local pizza parlor's Sunday evening karaoke. They took turns picking songs for each other, and Rachel couldn't even get through Kurt's selection for her ("Who Let The Dog's Out"), walking off in hysterics a few lines in. (She really was so glad his evil genius wasn't directed at her in spite anymore.)

Finally making her way home, after a big hug for Kurt and the most heartfelt "thank you" to Mercedes, Rachel took a deep breath as she glanced around her room. She pulled a box from the top shelf of her closet, and then went about collecting the Finn-things she'd been unable to take down before.

A framed picture of them from the Lima waterpark over the summer, and one of just him taken in the green room before they performed at Regionals. (She'd often looked at the latter and wondered if he already knew then what he was going to say to her just 15 minutes later. The way he had smiled at her through the camera certainly suggested that he had.)

Every note he'd ever written, the cards from their monthly anniversaries; the flower she'd worn at his mother's wedding, which she'd carefully dried; their "crazy cat" calendar and his name written delicately in gold.

She didn't allow herself to hold them, study them, let them pull at her memory or her heart. She just placed them gently in the box, before shutting it and placing it back onto that highest shelf. She did hope to take them back out someday, add to them new artifacts of her life with Finn. But for now…

Glancing at the clock on her nightstand she saw that it was already 8:30pm and she was suddenly struck by how odd it seemed that she hadn't talked to Noah all day.

She hoped he wasn't too upset still from the night before, but she was also a little unsure at what to say to him. She felt like she owed him an apology, but she wasn't sure for what. Plus she needed to read 50 pages of _On the Road_ before going to bed, so she ignored the itching in her fingers to pick up her phone.

But as she crawled between her sheets a few hours later, she couldn't resist the temptation entirely, typing out a quick, "Goodnight, Noah" before succumbing to sleep.

!

Despite popular opinion, Noah Puckerman was not a liar. Was he devious, hell yes. And at times, he _hid _the truth like a pro. But more often than not, he actually tended to just own up to things. 'Cause what was the point of stirring up trouble if you weren't going to get credit for it?

(It was just one of the many reasons the Babygate secret had damn near killed him.)

So, if you asked him if he was feeling a little uneasy about glee today? He'd straight up tell you, "Yeah."

He just wouldn't know what to say if someone asked him why.

Sure, being around Finn was bound to be uncomfortable. But really, could it be worse than when Finn showed up at Sectionals last year, coolly dismissing him and Quinn, even as the guy saved the day?

Puck doubted it.

And, of course he hated that damn near everyone else in the club (and several jocks and cheerleaders, too) had seen him get reamed, again, by the world's biggest boy scout. But, that incident aside, he was still a badass, and they all knew it. So he was sure that wasn't what had him on edge.

In the back of his mind, he kind of suspected it might have something to do with Rachel. But _what_ about Rachel exactly? He had no clue.

Well... okay, maybe _that_ was a lie.

So he wasn't sure what happened between her and Finn after he'd left the other night and it was driving him insane.

It wasn't a big deal.

They were friends. Like, really kinda awesome friends. And he gave two shits what was going on in her life. Sue him.

And, yeah, maybe he was also a little curious because he didn't know if whatever happened might change his and Berry's whole friendship deal.

That wasn't a crime. Puck _knew _crime when he saw it.

He just wanted to know what Mercedes meant by "fine."

And why yesterday was the first day in weeks that he and Rachel hadn't spoken.

And if she was still going to help him pick out his mom's birthday present after school on Thursday.

Totally legitimate questions.

He walked into the choir room a little earlier than usual, hoping to just catch up with her and get on with things, but was surprised to find only 2/3 of the cheerios, Artie and Mike already there.

His ears immediately perked up at Santana and Brittany's conversation.

"…while the packaging was enticing, the toy itself was a disappointment. He's way too soup-and-crackers to hold my interest for very long. I had to break things off."

So Santana and Finn broke up. That was _interesting_ news.

Puck noticed Artie's brow furrow as he spoke up. "I thought Finn broke up with you?"

The cheerleader's dark eyes squinted with condescension. "You don't get it, Roller Derby. They _always _try to come back for more."

Puck desperately wanted more details, and from a more reliable source than Santana, but he couldn't resist chiming in. He knew her better than anyone, except maybe Brittany, and he knew that she was always at her bitchiest when she felt vulnerable. "Who you trying to convince, San? Artie or yourself?"

"Oh, don't look so smug, Puckerman. You know you're the biggest boomerang of all of them."

The most natural of smirks slipped into place. "Just proof that you're an easy lay. Not necessarily a good one."

He was laughing internally at her death glare, almost eager to see what carefully sharpened insult she'd try to throw back, when he saw her eyes shoot to whoever just walked in behind him. Judging by the height of her glare, and the Cheshire cat smile that was forming, he knew it had to be Rachel.

He turned, stripping his face of anything but nonchalance.

"Hey, Berry."

She smiled at him, though he also noticed her eyes shoot to Santana warily for a second. "Hello, Noah."

Well, nothing seemed too different.

She started towards a chair in the front row, over by Mike, and he followed her without hesitation, though he could feel Santana's sneer trailing them the whole way.

"Heard you had an interesting weekend, Yoda."

"Leave her alone." Puck's reaction was immediate, and his voice was hard enough to convey that his and Santana's sparring from a second ago was not to be shifted towards Rachel. "Not to mention, you're off your game today, Tana. Yoda was badass."

"Yoda was tiny, ugly, and talked weird. It fits." She chuckled a little, "Besides, _Noah_, at the very least I think I deserve an apology for her kissing my boyfriend."

Puck turned to Rachel so quickly his neck ached a little, and found she was glaring dangerously at her frequent tormentor. There was also a hint of a guilty blush covering her cheeks, and he felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach.

Fuck.

He looked back to Santana to find her self-satisfied smile directed at him rather than Rachel, and almost groaned out loud.

Berry probably had no idea she'd been the tool this time, not the target. And with a look he'd given Santana exactly what she'd wanted.

He should have figured the knowing-well went both ways, and apparently she saw what he'd been trying so hard not to admit.

"I am sorry, Santana."

Puck's mind was still a bit preoccupied, but he didn't think Rachel sounded sorry at all.

"I would have tried being more sensitive to your feelings if I'd thought for a second you actually had any."

He heard the Rache's sniping but he was still stuck on the idea of her kissing Finn. And how it bothered him. And how Santana knew it would.

"Whatever, To Wong Fu. I'm over it. He's not worth my time, and you're not worth my energy. I'm just really bummed to think the nauseating lovesick crap-ballads will be back."

Rachel let out a loud (cute) huff of indignation, finally re-catching Puck's attention.

"While a duet between Finn and myself in the near future seems unlikely, considering the significant degree of awkwardness it'd likely invoke as we remain exes, I would like to state clearly that _nothing_ I sing will _ever_ be crap. And no matter what mean things you say to the contrary, we both know you know that. Insults to my personal life are one thing, but shut your mouth about my talent."

Puck, suddenly feeling relieved for reasons he'd rather not say, couldn't help but laugh out loud, forcing both sets of angry brown eyes to shoot to him in an instant.

"Damn, Berry. You really have _no_ interest in humility, do you?"

There must have been enough warmth in his voice to show he was joking (not that it wasn't true) because Rachel's offended glare quickly faltered, morphing into a trace of a smile.

"I'm self-aware, Noah, and there's no use pretending I don't know how good I am. You of all people should understand that, considering how quick you are to remind everyone of your sexual prowess and overall "bad-you know-ness.""

He laughed again, shaking his head at her refusal to say 'ass,' oblivious to how quickly Santana was forgotten as they fell into a comfortable teasing. Unaware of how everyone else in the room noticed.

"Fair Enough, Berry."

!

Mike Chang was a quiet, simple guy on purpose. He had the rare understanding for a 16-year-old that high school, in the grand scheme of things, wasn't really important. It was just a step, a period in time to get through and learn from, in order to have the best life you could after it was over.

While most of his peers seemed to live or die by their degree of popularity, by what other people thought, Mike tried to just take it all one day at a time, and maintain a degree of levelheadedness about the whole thing.

He didn't play football because he wanted to fit in or be cool. He played because he liked it.

Joining glee had been another easy call to make, because he really liked it too.

And it had never crossed his mind to consider what dating an admitted outcast like Tina would do to his reputation, because all that mattered to Mike was that he liked her. A lot.

So it was partially due to this overall philosophy, that he'd never given much thought to Rachel Berry. He'd never had the urge to toss a slushie or throw an egg at another human being, so, before glee, she'd sort of flown (with the rapidity of a humming bird) under his radar.

And once in glee, well, _he_ didn't want a solo. So he tried to just tune out the rehearsal drama until it was time to dance.

But lately, things had been changing, and even he had had to take notice.

It started when Tina came over, gushing after an afternoon movie with Mercedes and Rachel during winter break.

Again, he liked his girlfriend a lot, so he was always excited to see her happy. And while she wasn't usually one to say mean things, she could still get as annoyed as anyone else with Rachel's demanding nature. It had been a nice surprise as they watched an old episode of Family Guy in his family room to hear that Tina had had so much fun with the petite girl.

Then, when school had started back up again, he honestly hadn't expected to see any songs under his name on the list of Rachel's Mr. Schue passed out. His song with Tina during their duets assignment had been entertaining he was sure, but certainly didn't indicate any true vocal talent on his part. But Rachel had as many suggestions for him as everyone else, several of which he happened to really like, so he'd asked her for help almost without thinking about it. And looking back, he didn't think it was unreasonable to consider the result outstanding.

Lately, he and Tina were starting to spend more time out with Rachel and Puck than they did with his mother (which he knew Tina appreciated immensely), so he'd finally been giving some thought to Rachel Berry.

And the conclusion he'd drawn was that she was a pretty cool friend.

The smile on Tina's face at this very moment was a great example as to why.

He remembered his steps effortlessly, pulling and reacting to Brittany's every move in perfect time, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from his girlfriend as her strong voice filled the choir room.

"_I've had a little bit too much_

_All of the people start to rush, start to rush by_

_How does he twist the dance?_

_Can't find my drink, oh man._

_Where are my keys? I lost my phone, phone."_

Mr. Schue had asked him and Brittany earlier in the week to come up with something dance-heavy, citing their crowd-pleasing efforts at Sectionals as something they were going to need to call on again for a chance at winning Regionals. He and Brittany were of course glad to do it, but he couldn't help but notice Tina's face fall a little.

The last time he spent a week working tirelessly with Brittany had been their most difficult time as a couple. He was pretty sure she wouldn't doubt his fidelity again, but he didn't want her to feel left out. And he knew with all the hours outside of class being devoted to rehearsing, he'd flat out miss her.

But then Rachel had come forward with an alternative, complete with some preliminary choreography all mapped out.

She thought Lady Gaga's "Just Dance" would work nicely for both Brittany _and_ Tina's voices. And that with Tina's own qualified dance experience, another level of performance drama could be reached by working in a third dancer.

The four nights of hard work with Brittany and Tina under Rachel's critical eye had been strenuous, but still fun, and ultimately rewarding.

Sharing it with the others now, as Brittany took over vocals and he moved into the portion of the dance that featured he and Tina, he hoped Rachel was a little proud of herself.

"_Wish I could shut my playboy mouth. Oh oh oh-oh._

_How'd I turn my shirt inside out? Inside outright._

_Control your poison, babe, roses have thorns they say,_

_And we're all getting hosed tonight. Oh oh oh-oh."_

As much as he was enjoying the twinkle in Tina's eye, he also couldn't help but beam for Brittany. He knew that she'd felt a little down that since "Toxic" she'd been unable to share her voice. While it took her a little while to warm up to Rachel (her loyalty to Santana ran deep), it was clear she was ecstatic to be singing right now.

Coming off one of the more difficult lifts of the routine, he took a deep breath as his vocal part approached.

"_When I come through on the dance floor checkin' out that catalog,_

_Can't believe my eyes, so many women without a flaw."_

He did a quick glance towards Rachel in the front row to see if he was doing an okay job. Her thumbs up and enormous grin seemed to say, "Yes."

Watching Brittany and Tina nail their synchronized portion out of the corner of his eye, he let the feel of singing take over.

"_The way your twirlin' up them hips round and round."_

Soon the girls took back over leading the vocals, the rest of it passing in a blur. When the music ended he was a little out of breath, Brittany draped over his one arm in an impressively low dip while Tina twisted at a gorgeous angle into his side.

The mix of applause and adrenaline was intoxicating, and maybe for the first time Mike felt like he understood why so many of the rest of the gleeks fought so hard to stand a little farther out for this moment.

That's why when a skipping bouncing clapping Rachel attacked them with a forced group hug, he couldn't help but whisper, "Thanks."

!

"Rachel, you are going to that dance if I have to tie you up and carry you there myself."

"Kurt, I don't like dances."

"You've never been to one."

"Well, I've never been to a public flogging either, but I'm also sure I don't like those."

"I'm not going to acknowledge that as a valid argument and will instead reiterate that you. are. going." Kurt arched an eyebrow for emphasis, even though she couldn't see him through the phone. Their shared appreciation for facial dramatics was perhaps part of why his friendship with Rachel was going so well. But just because he very much liked her now did not mean he couldn't be forceful if necessary. She was going to go to the William McKinley High School Valentine's Dance and that was final.

"Kurt, I have nothing to wear…"

"Fixable."

"I probably won't like the music selection."

"Understandable…but no reason to skip it."

"My fathers may not let me."

"Absolute bull."

"I…I don't have a date."

"Neither does Mercedes."

"Kurt!"

He stifled a laugh as he heard her stomp her foot on the Berry kitchen's (lovely) ceramic tile. It was uncanny how the theatrics he used to loathe about her now managed to amuse him to no end.

"Look, I appreciate that you may have some concerns, a few reservations or what have you. But I'm sorry, this is not a debate."

"You're right. Because it's _my_ life."

"Technicality." He bet she could visualize the dismissive wave of his hand.

"Kuuurt!"

"Raaach!" He heard a 'hmph' at his mocking tone and he knew she was pouting.

"Honey, I know that, to this point, high school has been awful for you. You've never wanted to partake in the non-mandatory parts because it's been a constant struggle to get through the required day-to-day. Iget it. Really. I've been there, too, remember? I _know_. "

He assumed her bottom lip was still sticking out like the little princess she was, but her silence meant she was listening…and that was a start.

"But things are different now, right? You are no longer alone. I'm almost sick with jealousy every time I talk to Mercedes, because it's like she doesn't do anything without you anymore. The times I've seen Tina or Quinn in the last month and a half have all been your doing. And, I have, on numerous occasions, been forced to enjoy that particular brand of pleasure reserved for social interactions with Puck…as the boy follows you around damn near everywhere."

"Kurt…"

He sniffed at her warning tone. "Oh, calm down. I'm only being mildly sarcastic. You know I greatly prefer the wrapped-around-Rachel's-finger version of Noah Puckerman to all known alternatives. "

"I know."

"Rachel, it's a rite of passage an-"

"It's not the prom, Kurt." He could practically hear her arms crossing as she interrupted.

"Oh, don't think you are skipping that one either, but regardless, this is still an opportunity for a major high school experience. Not to mention, if you let it, I think it could be a lot of fun."

He listened to nothing but her quiet breathing for a moment, hoping he had her.

"But what if he's there."

Kurt smiled sadly. "I don't know, you tell me. You see him most every day at glee, what would make this any different?"

"I always thought if I went to one of the school's stupid dances, it'd be with him. And now, things are okay mostly because we avoid interacting with each other in any capacity that might resemble what we once shared. If I go and he's there, what do I do if he asks me to dance? What do I do if he doesn't? I'd probably find a reason to be upset either way, and I'm trying really hard to live drama-free for a while, Kurt."

A sigh escaped his lips. "It's no less dramatic to hide from him, sweetheart. Especially when there's a chance, considering how awful that boy dances, that he won't show up."

"Kurt…"

"Just go, Rachel. Please?"

There was a beat before he could break out into a victorious smile. "I wish you could go with me."

"You know I do too. But Mercedes will take good care of you."

He laughed at her frustrated groan. "Grrrargh. Fine!"

He waited...

"So, what kind of dress do you think I should get?"

!

Quinn looked at her reflection critically. The Macy's fitting room had unflattering overhead lights and excessively smudged mirrors, but she still thought the dress looked quite nice. The red was a little closer to the shade of her Cheerio's uniform than she'd originally wanted, but it flattered her complexion and the satin slid, smooth, along her frame. She hoped Sam would like it.

She turned as she heard a light knock and opened the changing room door to find Rachel biting her lip nervously as she held the back of her dress together, her arm twisting behind her awkwardly.

"Need help?" Rachel nodded, seeming relieved that Quinn didn't mind assisting. The zipper pulled up easily, and Quinn clasped the tiny hook at the top with the speed of a girl who'd worn a lot of formal attire in her lifetime. "If this one hadn't zipped on the side, I'd have definitely needed your help."

Rachel grinned. "Thank you." She took a step back, looking at Quinn thoughtfully before adding, "I think that dress is exquisite."

Quinn returned her smile, before motioning with a finger for the brunette to twirl for inspection.

The dress was a darker red (Rachel called the shade "sangria") and strapless, cinching in a little at the waist, and ending just below her knees.

Quinn nodded her approval. "It looks great."

She almost rolled her eyes when this caused the shorter girl to blush. It was clear that, while in matters of school or glee Rachel accepted their new status as friends easily, there were certain areas where the transition was a little rougher. Apparently Quinn calling her "Man-Hands" and "RuPaul" for years had left an impression.

"I know I've said a lot of awful things to suggest the opposite, but you're really very pretty, Rachel." It made Quinn a little uncomfortable to say it so bluntly, but it wasn't as if it wasn't true and she figured if they were going to be friends this would probably not be their only time shopping together. Might as well nip the mousy self-doubt in the bud.

The blush deepened, but she was pretty sure she caught gratitude in Rachel's eyes.

"I'd return the compliment, but we both know you are a great deal more than pretty."

Quinn shrugged. "I look like a doll. Guys seem to like that." She wasn't trying to be humble (it was not her nature, and she certainly wasn't going to fake it with Rachel), it was just the way she felt about it. She liked that people considered her beautiful, but especially after last year, she wanted to be seen as other things as well. Like smart, strong, hardworking, just to name a few.

"How are things with Sam? As good as they seem?"

Quinn guessed her expression must have translated as shock or irritation as Rachel, looking panicked, was quick to add, "Oh, I'm sorry! Are we not good enough friends for me to ask personal questions like that yet?"

Laughing a little, she had to shake her head at Rachel. "Relax. You just caught me off guard. No one else has ever really asked."

She supposed it was odd to be standing with Rachel Berry in a narrow dressing room, both clad in dresses they did not own, contemplating her current relationship. But she couldn't help but smile at the thought of Sam, and she felt that was a sign that things really were going pretty well.

"He's different. Not that Finn or Puck really have much in common. Besides football, glee, and taste in women, anyway." She paused, fearful that she'd been too flippant with something still very raw for her friend, but Rachel just looked to be listening eagerly, so she continued. "But Sam's really unlike any other guy I've ever known. He's nice, and he's honest and accepting. He gets me, in a way no other boy has."

It was weird to open up like this; she never shared her feelings much before, well, aside from anger. But she suddenly wondered if it was because she spent much of her time, for most of her life, with people she really _couldn't_ open up to. But here was Rachel, a girl she'd been consistently cruel and vicious to in the past, looking like she would listen to Quinn's every word and never judge, never tell a soul.

Mercedes had been amazing, especially during the pregnancy, but not even she had managed to make Quinn feel quite like that.

"He seems to really _want_ to make me happy."

"And does he?"

Quinn nodded, biting her lip a little to keep her smile in check. "Yeah. I think he does."

Rachel beamed at her, unrestrained.

They both jumped as the sound of Rachel's phone broke their silent moment, "Defying Gravity" filling up the tiny area at full volume.

Quinn chuckled as Rachel rushed to get it from her own room across the small aisle, a comic sense of haste on her features. The girl really was so dramatic.

Shutting the door and starting to undress, the blonde listened to one side of the conversation.

"Hello, Kurt."

"No, we were not attacked by wild bears."

"I'm sure you are right; there is no other legitimate excuse for us taking so long. Obviously Quinn and I are just trying to make you suffer."

"No, I think we can wrap it up."

"Alright. See you there in a few."

"I take it he's getting hungry?" Quinn asked as she heard the phone snap shut to end the call.

She was surprised when the Rachel's affirmative reply sounded closer again, and was followed by another light knock on the dressing room door. Slipping her sweater over her head, she quickly pulled the door open.

"Would you please unzip me?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Long, but possibly critical for your future enjoyment of this fic, Author's Note: **

I believe in being relatively upfront when "ships" are involved. Mostly because people get fanatical about them and can be downright scary (myself included, after the last two years of Dawson's Creek sucked so bad, going into the finale, not knowing if they'd give me my Pacey/Joey ending to make all it mildly worthwhile, was excruciating. To this day I don't understand Dawson fans (in lots of ways, actually) and how they didn't riot in the streets. Had things gone the other way, I'd have driven cross-country to give those writers a piece of my mind….before being hauled off to jail, I'm sure), so in the interest of full disclosure I assure you my original statement on the nature of this fic still holds true. It'll be Finchel in the end, otherwise I wouldn't have tagged this story for both Rachel and Finn. But also, for the sake of honesty, I'll reiterate my other original point that there will be plenty of Puckleberry stuff along the way, and warn you that if you can't share some love for Puck, you might want to tap out now. I personally couldn't decide between those two boys if a gun was to my head (I truly love and adore Finn, but I will defend the utter badassness of Noah Puckerman with every ounce of my being), so you better believe I think Rachel might struggle a little bit with dividing her attention too.

I do hope you enjoy this...but if it's too angsty or Noah-filled for your liking, I won't blame you for exiting the ride here. But I've got to write the story that's in my head, and Puck is in there. Being awesome.

Anyway, I apologize for the ramble but wanted to address some panicking reviews I'd received...and for those of you who stick with this, thanks as always for reading.

Also, this first section is uber cheesy…but I'm not really sorry about that. (Plus, if you are unfamiliar with the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes…give it a listen. And please ignore that I tweaked a lyric or two.)

**Disclaimer: **Don't own.

!

"Alright, everybody, time to get started. Who has something to share today?" William Schuester clapped his hands together as he strode into his beloved choir room, ready and eager to get another afternoon glee rehearsal underway.

He'd been having a rough time the last year (the dissolution of his marriage, the loss of his believed fatherhood, everything with Emma, the existence of Sue), and somehow this room, this club, had become his sanctuary.

And these kids, his family.

Now, he knew he let some get away with too much (Santana never seemed to say _anything_ appropriate for a school setting) and he was way too hard on some (it was known that he yelled at Rachel far more than he really had any right to as a teacher), and he never could seem to keep himself from overstepping the lines of teacher-student propriety when it came to Finn.

But it was difficult to hold himself in check when he was so _invested_ in their lives.

Santana was a good kid. He knew it was difficult to see, as she typically did everything in her power to keep it hidden. But the very fact that she was in glee meant there was more to her than the foul-mouthed, promiscuous cheerleader image would suggest. Her voice (and her being one of the 12 bodies necessary to compete) were good for glee, but he really believed glee was also good for her, helped fight some of the petty and cut-throat poison Sue spewed forth to all the Cheerios. He often found himself allowing for a certain amount of leniency with Santana, fearful that if he came down too hard, she'd leave. And for her sake as much as the club's, he couldn't stand that thought. He wasn't sure why Santana was so angry, or so obviously scared of being overlooked, but he suspected that much of all that attitude was for show. And teenagers with chips on their shoulders needed an outlet, for their sanity and their safety. He wanted to make sure he provided her with that... even if it made him cringe/blush to hear some of what came out of her mouth.

With Rachel….well, she made it very easy for him to forget she was just a child. And she sometimes made it even easier for him to lose his temper. She was, without a doubt, the most naturally gifted performer he'd ever seen, or more importantly, ever heard. Even including April (who was nothing short of absolutely breathtaking on stage). Rachel was also the most fiercely determined and hardworking student he'd ever encountered, and, in so many ways, was mature well beyond her years. But, like he imagined a father might feel, she could frustrate and _infuriate_ him with her petulance, her narrow-mindedness, her often stubborn refusal to look beyond her own dreams and consider anyone else's. He knew, KNEW, with absolute certainty that she was better than that, but sometimes she didn't seem to know that about herself. And so he'd snap; because showing her how to shine within a constellation, rather than as a star all on her own, was literally _all_ he had to teach her (she'd surpassed his level of vocal tutoring by age 11) and he _needed_ her to listen.

He hated how easily he lost his cool with her, but took some comfort in the fact that she always came back. (Much like a daughter might, after realizing that while a parent's delivery may not always be perfect, it didn't mean their message was wrong.)

And Finn…Finn was, at times, like looking in a mirror of 15 years ago. He hadn't been lying when he'd told the boy he saw much of his own self in him; the way the music could light him up, the way he (usually) acted with the best of intentions, the general awkwardness. And Finn was full of so much potential, so much desire to be good, it was hard not to want to be there to witness his successes or to push him to be the best he could be. Last spring, when the club had performed "To Sir, With Love," Finn's statement had likened him to a father. Will thought that was only fair, because he couldn't help but liken Finn to a son.

And it was true of the entire club, really. Despite his efforts to maintain a certain level of professionalism, he saw himself as something beyond teacher to each and every gleek. Sure, they already had parents…. but didn't it take a village to raise a child? He had to believe, on some level, he was more to them, because they certainly weren't_ just_ his students.

Now, finding them all standing together, waiting eagerly (some also nervously, it appeared) for his arrival, he felt those very thoughts were somehow instantly validated.

"Mr. Schue, before we get into our usual competition preparation, we'd like to perform a special song for you, if you'd please have a seat?"

Rachel's smile was as wide as possible as she stood a little ahead of the others and gracefully motioned to a single chair set to the front of the room with her hand. Finn nodded at him too, taking his place at the drums, a grin on his face.

What were they up to?

"We realized it's been awhile since we said 'Thank You' for what you, and glee, bring to us. Maybe 'cause we've, surprisingly, gone awhile without a major club crisis," Mercedes offered a small smile and a shrug. "But anyways, we appreciate everything you do, Mr. Schue. And we wanted to remind you of that."

"And _we_ totally like you better than that super fine dentist."

He sat and watched Rachel roll her eyes at Santana's comment as she handed the girl a tambourine, then offered another to Quinn and then Tina, before taking one for herself and giving a nod to the club.

Instantly his students began to whistle, as the guitar and percussion filled the room, each tambourine wielder joining in to accentuate certain beats. He thought he recognized the song a little, something Quinn had played once before rehearsal started.

Then Will saw the head Cheerio smile at him widely as she took the cue to sing.

"_Alabama, Arkansas, _

_I do love my ma and pa, _

_Not the way that I do love you."_

Sam took over the next few lines, followed by Santana's and then Artie's voices in turn, as the verse continued.

He felt his smile growing with every moment, and then swelling further as all twelve voices came together in perfect harmony at the chorus. They were moving to the beat as one, though there was apparently no planned choreography, merely enjoying the song and enjoying eachother…obviously meaning the words they sang.

"_Oh, home. Let me come home. _

_Home is whenever I'm with you. _

_Oh, Home. Let me come home. _

_Home is wherever I'm with you."_

Mercedes and Rachel sang together, arms linked, smiling hugely at him, _"La la la la take me home, honey, I'm coming home!"_

Mike went next, and Will continued to marvel at how he was truly starting to come out of his shell.

"_I'll follow you into the park,_

_through the jungle, through the dark,_

_Oh, I never loved one like you."_

Tina squeezed her boyfriend's hand before starting up herself,

"_Moats and boats and waterfalls,_

_Alleyways and pay-phone calls,_

_I've been everywhere with you."_

Mike smiled, _"That's true."_

Then it was Finn's turn, Brittany's voice filling around it in places, before she slipped into a stanza of her own.

"_Laugh until we think we'll die (we'll die),_

_Barefoot on a summer's night (summer's night),_

_Never could be sweeter than with you."_

"_And in the streets you run a'free,_

_Like it's only you and me._

_Jeez, you're something to see."_

Schue laughed as the chorus came back around and the dancing grew more spastic, Mike spinning Tina as she laughed around the lyrics, while Rachel and Quinn bounced about eachother, giggling.

Mercedes sang again, _"La la la la take me home. Honey, I'm coming home." _

The music shifted slightly, and Puck, who'd been contributing with his guitar through most of the song nodded at their newest gleek with his trademark smirk as he spoke over the softened tune.

"Lauren."

"Puckerman."

"Do you remember that day you found me in the rent-a-loo?"

"I sure do. You smelled like…."Lauren looked to Mr. Schue and merely raised her eyebrow rather than finishing the thought. The teacher couldn't help but chuckle appreciatively at the expression.

"Well, you pulled me out and we got to talkin' and I bribed you into joining glee, with my irresistible studly ways, and then you couldn't help but become one of us "losers", do you remember that?"

"Yes. I do."

"Well, there's something I kinda didn't mention."

"What didn't you tell me?" Lauren nudged Puck with her shoulder.

""While you may have thought this random group of misfits was just about singing, I've, against my best efforts, found that it's about more than that. Like becoming friends with people you thought you freakin' hated, and having a place you'll _always_ be accepted, no matter what."

Will let out another laugh of surprise when he heard Lauren's voice solidly for the first time as she started the rest of them into the chorus again, winking at Puck playfully as she sang.

Then the instruments stilled as Rachel's voice, thick and warm and genuine, filled the space as fully on her own as the group vocals and accompaniment had all together,

"_Home, let me come home. _

_Home is wherever I'm with you._

_Oh, home, yes, I am home, _

_Home is when I'm with all of you."_

The music and other voices joined back in with a flourish, but hers continued to soar and Will knew she, maybe more so than any of the rest of them, really meant this. And he wanted to join in, because he would mean it too.

As they finished, laughing through the rush of completing a quality performance, they all slowly looked to him expectantly, impatient for his reaction.

He wondered if there was something wrong with him that he'd so often let these kids see him moved to tears, but he grinned largely at them and blinked away the sheen in his eyes, as he thanked them sincerely.

He offered handshakes and high fives and pats on the back as he approached each of his kids in turn, before being taken slightly by surprise when he made his way to Rachel last and she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue, "she whispered as the others settled themselves into their usual seats.

He squeezed her shoulder affectionately as she pulled away to start towards her own seat, before clearing his throat to get the room's attention.

"Okay, so….Regionals?"

!

While Puck's posture (if you could, in fact, call slouching down so far in his seat that he was half-laying in his desk chair, "posture") did nothing to suggest it, he was actually pretty anxious to see how he'd done on the Biology quiz from Monday. As the roundly middle-aged Ms. Winsmith handed his over, he offered his teacher a slight nod (the closest he came in such settings to a 'thank you') and before even glancing down to check his score felt a bit triumphant at the subtext he read in the small smile the teacher shot back to him. Apparently she'd been pleasantly surprised.

He looked to confirm.

B+.

Bad. Ass.

While his grades had been steadily climbing since his return from juvie, thanks in part to Artie's friendship and the intention of never going back to that shithole again, this was definitely still the highest grade he'd received since he was in middle school. And while he was, of course, far too cool to celebrate it publicly, he'd be toasting himself with a beer from his stash later tonight for sure.

And he was totally going to see if he could get some of Berry's "Well Done!" sugar cookies out of this, too.

He was interrupted from his self-satisfied musings, however, as he felt Santana lean in close from her seat behind him, lifting up slightly to peer over his shoulder at his grade, before letting out a quiet, but dangerously pointed, laugh, her hot breath tickling his ear.

"So, is the leprechaun set to _literally_ neuter you, too, or is it just going to be a metaphorical removal of your manhood...and every last ounce of your cool."

He turned his head just a little to shoot her a glare out of the corner of his eye. "What-the-hell-ever, San."

"No, for real. No one's going to buy this reformation as just a product of juvie-probation much longer. And once everyone else catches on that you're playing teacher's pet because of your trolly little girlfriend, none of your usual tricks will do a fuckin' thing to restore your power. You're in danger of losing the whole kingdom, Puckerman." He saw her smile as her tone then shifted from one of warning to one of mocking. "And all for a girl who will never see you as anything more than a stand in for the one that got away."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Oooh." Santana's full lips pursed coyly then slipped into a teasing pout that somehow still managed to sneer. "I've hit a nerve."

He shook his head even as he turned his head back to face the front of the classroom. "You're just pissed because you've had an itch for weeks that I've been refusing to scratch."

"You know as well as I do that's no real bother. You may be good at what you do, but you are by no means the_ only_ capable option."

He paused a moment at her statement, not because he took it as an insult, or as a compliment, but precisely because she hadn't _meant_ it as either. It was just the truth to them, a testament to the life philosophy that they'd both always shared, and just a portion of why, though he'd be the first to call her out as the raging bitch she was, he'd always had…and probably always would have…a soft spot for Santana Lopez.

And though she thought he was a total prick with a low credit score, he knew the affection went both ways.

Since in her experience he cared a great deal about his reputation as their school's resident bad-boy, he imagined that while she thoroughly enjoyed viciously digging into him, and Rachel by association, her interest here wasn't _only_ mean-spirited. She meant to offer her warning as a (dysfunctional) friend, so he could only slightly begrudge her awfulness.

Theirs wasn't the most conventional of foundations for friendship he knew, but there was something to be said for rock solid bonding over shared daddy issues (his physically gone, hers just emotionally uninterested) and knowing what it was like to want a parent's love, yet be willing to take only their (usually negative) attention instead; to hate feeling like a disappointment, but preferring that to being ignored. He had the rare and necessary insight into Santana's life-beyond-WMHS to understand how the girl could work tirelessly one day to prove herself worthy to her mother through good grades and athletic excellence, and then admit, unapologetically, the next to breaking into the liquor cabinet (as the half-naked college junior she'd just met was asked not-so-politely by Mrs. Lopez to leave), without blinking an eye.

They both _got_ self-destruction. Even if, lately, he'd been starting to hope his tendency for it was finally behind him.

He decided not to respond with a taunt this time.

"Glad you're getting taken care of then. But at any rate, no one's got to know shit about my grades, and she's not my girlfriend."

"Much to your dismay."

He shifted in his seat a little but his face remained unchanged. "Why do you even fuckin' care? Your bi-polar territorial thing has gotten seriously old, San, so I hope that's not it."

He looked over his shoulder at her again, indicating he really was curious.

"You're a manwhore with anger issues and inevitable alcoholism, but you still could do better."

"Fuck that. Both parts."

"You asked."

"You lied. You know what I think?"

"No. And I care even less."

He rolled his eyes at her and told her anyway. "I think you hate that despite doing everything you could to keep her down, at the end of the day, aside from that Cheerio uniform, she's still gotten everything you've ever wanted."

"Like you?" She volleyed back sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

His smirk was wry and unusually self-deprecating. "Like Finn. And Quinn's respect. And even Brittany's friendship these days."

She scoffed and shook her head, her mouth twisted in fury. He knew he was playing with fire by pushing onward, but now that they'd gotten on the topic, he'd been thinking for a long time someone needed to check her. And he was really the only one who cared enough about her (and was more observant than Brit) to be so honest. Many people feared Santana Lopez, but few people truly liked her. Fewer still really knew her at all.

"You hate that people've started figuring out that she's not different because she's less than the rest of us, but because she's more. And you wish you knew how to get over it, but you don't."

"Fuck you."

He smiled smugly at her default come back, and at the memory of how he used to respond. (Which was to comply.)

"San, you're a crazy sadistic bitch, and mean as hell, but you know I've always liked you anyway. But lately, especially when it comes to her, you've been ten times worse. And I've got to tell you, from now on, I got Berry's back. Pretty much the rest of glee does too. Maybe I'm wrong as to what's causing your bitchfest, but if so, I really don't care enough about the "why" to put together another guess. Whatever the reason, you need to just move the fuck on. You can't beat her. I won't let you, and she's not even interested in your game anyway."

She didn't respond and she wouldn't look at him, but he knew enough about the color of her eyes to recognize they'd darkened with her rage. Still, her brows pulled together in such a way that he knew she was seriously thinking, not just stewing.

He turned to face the front completely again, trying to pick up on the key parts of the lecture while still appearing uninterested. Twenty minutes on mitosis had passed before he heard Santana's whisper again.

"She's gross."

"She's hot."

"_I'm_ hot."

"I know."

Without looking, Puck could tell she smiled.

!

"Kurt? What are you doing here?" Finn asked, walking in to find his step-brother in the Hummel-Hudson kitchen unexpectedly on a Thursday morning.

"Well, it _is _technically my _home_, Finn," Kurt quirked a tailored brow, "but I suppose I can understand your surprise. My dad helped me secure an excused absence so I could attend today's meeting. You running late?"

Finn nodded sheepishly, he usually was these days, then his brain caught up to the rest of Kurt's statement. "Wait, what meeting?"

"Rachel's addressing Figgins today, on the anti-bullying policies?"

Finn continued to stare at Kurt in confusion.

"She decided she wanted to try and get a no-tolerance policy for bullying at McKinely. She's been gathering information, and meeting with Ms. Pillsbury-Howell, and a few other students and teachers, for strength in numbers. Her first meeting with Principal Figgins on the issue is today. Dad and I wanted to attend to lend a little moral support, as well as make a point with our presence."

While he was sure he should have been fixating on the potential good this could do for his school, and for many of his friends, Finn couldn't focus on anything but how Rachel hadn't mentioned a word about it to him, and the hurt hit him like a splash of ice cold water. That had tiny, but sharp-toothed and ravenous, barracudas in it.

"Why didn't she tell me? I'd have helped."

He winced at the whine of pained disbelief in his own voice. Sure, things had continued to be a little strained since Quinn's party, but in the last few weeks he'd thought they'd been slowly building back to at least a bit of friendship. He was starting to let go of the last of his anger, and she seemed more willing to talk to him. In fact, he'd secretly even dared to think that soon they'd maybe be ready to start talking about _them _again. But even aside from that, as co-captains, they'd collaborated quite a bit on the song for Mr. Schue with no trouble. So why not this?

Kurt seemed to consider how to answer a long moment as Finn felt the shorter boy studying him. "I'm sure she knows that. But she probably didn't want any unnecessary awkwardness for either of you. I just thought you might have heard about it since a few other gleeks are helping out."

Finn couldn't hide his irritation. "Like Puck?"

Kurt fixed him with a pointed look. "She's mostly been asking for help from the most frequent victims of bullying. Artie's giving a testimony of being trapped in a port-a-potty, and pushed down stairs in his wheelchair. Tina wrote a statement on the slushies."

Finn nodded. He could see how, though he'd endured some torment since joining glee, there were others who'd been picked on in much worse ways, and for a lot longer. Rachel herself included.

"Puck actually did volunteer to comment on _being_ a bully; testify, so to speak, to how easy it was for him to get away with it all, and how sure he was that no one would stop him. She refused because she thought it might get him into trouble, but I hope if we get the opportunity to take it to the school board she reconsiders."

Finn scoffed a little. He didn't know which bothered him more, that the usually lazy and selfish Puck was offering his help, or that she cared enough about protecting him to refuse it. He saw Kurt's knowing expression and recognized it as one of displeasure at his reaction, but he honestly couldn't control his resentment...or his jealousy.

"You know, it might be in your best interest to just let their friendship be, without these juvenile displays of aggression every time it's mentioned."

There was only a silent eye roll from Finn as he poured another glass of orange juice, an attempt to demonstrate how he didn't find that suggestion even worthy of a response.

But Kurt continued. "She told me about it, you know. Your tantrum at Quinn's party. And while you may have been the one to break things off initially, I think it's now apparent that you had no intention of forsaking the love of our dear Ms. Berry permanently."

Finn took a break from his juice to offer a, "So?"

"Well, you just might end up losing her forever if you can't stop acting like a brat. Especially since I'm pretty sure Puck," Kurt's nose wrinkled slightly at the name,"has no intention of going anywhere."

There was the sharp sound of a glass hitting too hard against the counter as the taller brother's eyes widened with apprehension. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm getting at the fact that things have changed, a lot, since you broke up with her. Rachel used to think, and sadly it was rather true, that you were all she really had, even in glee. There was often so much resentment and baggage between her and all the rest of us. Even when things were calm and relatively easy, there was still distance. But that's just not the case anymore. She still loves you, more than she maybe wants to at the moment, but I think it's safe to say you aren't her whole world anymore. She misses you, but she's made friends and she's learned how to be happy all on her own. And these are good things. While much of this is due to an admirable amount of effort on her part, it's also clear that her bond with Puck was the easiest to forge. They are _friends _now. Really _good_ friends, despite the fact that it appears to all onlookers to conflict with the very laws of nature. If you ever want to have Rachel back in your life, as even a true friend let alone anything more, you are going to have to accept that he's probably going to be part of the deal. Or, at the very least, accept that you won't get away with growling and insulting him all the time. I've learned from experience that she does not tolerate speaking ill of her precious Noah. You left her, so she went out and filled her life with other people. You cannot blame her for that, and you can't expect her to abandon them just because you want her back."

Finn could instantly feel his energy, and a hope he hadn't even been aware he was carrying around, draining from him. He recognized the truth in his brother's words, both about the obvious changes in Rachel's life and what they'd mean for any future he could hope to have with her. He knew he'd been, foolishly, longing for the moment his hurt and anger would be totally gone, and hers finally too, because he'd figured they could then just go back to "normal," to the way they'd always been before this mess.

He should have known going back would be impossible.

He _wanted_ to be happy for her, and deep down he believed he was. He had noticed the changes in her since the semester started, at school and at glee, and knew that while she was still very much _Rachel_, she was trying to be the best version of herself. He'd known her all along to be thoughtful, supportive, funny, accepting, and he was relieved that she'd found a way for others to get to see all that in her too. He fell in love with her dedication and passion, her intensity, the way she craved and demanded perfection, but he'd often been sad that she let all that always overpower and outshine her gentler side, the Rachel he'd felt so privileged to see when they were alone. He knew that she wanted friends, and he'd always wished for her sake that people'd catch a glimpse of everything she was beyond the performer. So he had to be glad now that they finally had.

But, he'd also _liked _being her everything. He missed a lot of things since their break up, but one he missed most especially was the way she used to stare at him in adoration, the way her every moment (that wasn't about music or stardom, but really even some of them too) seemed to be about him. It was addicting to be loved like that.

Of course he knew the mature thing was to adapt, and that meant going forward he'd have to willingly share her, but the idea still hurt.

Especially when it came to Puck.

There was so much there that hadn't healed from Quinn, and especially from Rachel's cheating a few months before, that even knowing they were "friends" now was enough to drive him crazy. This other boy, who'd already cost him so much, was still seeing Rachel, hearing Rachel, being near Rachel, when he couldn't.

Not to mention Finn wasn't blind. Just because they were "friends" didn't mean Puck wasn't hoping that wouldn't always be the case. He saw the way his former best friend sometimes looked at his former girlfriend, and it made his stomach churn with dread.

He was dragged away from his thoughts and increasing misery by his step-brother's hand upon his shoulder and sympathetic gaze. "She loves you, Finn. And I know you love her too. I hope, and truly expect, that one day you'll both be ready to be the disgusting display of oozing adoration called Finchel once again. But you've got to get passed the jealousy, and you are going to have to be patient."

Finn nodded, as much from resignation as understanding, as he moved to rinse his dishes, feeling Kurt's stare the entire time. He'd always been easily jealous and, well, patience just didn't come easily to him. Still, he knew Kurt was right. And, really, what other choice did he have?

!

"Miss Berry, you've obviously been quite thorough and invested much time and thought into this proposal. However, I have to warn you, that to my knowledge of the school board, a disciplinary policy of this magnitude has never once been considered and may meet with significant resistance."

Rachel took a calming breath as she took in Principal Figgins' steady gaze, and formulated a reply.

She sat primly across the desk from the man, Ms. Pillsbury-Howell in the chair to her right, while Mr. Schue, Artie, Lauren, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt and his father crowded into the remaining space of the office. And her appreciation at the surprising presence of one Sue Sylvester was not to be diminished by the condescending manner with which the Cheerio coach claimed the entire couch.

Things had thus far gone better than she'd expected. Figgins had listened quietly to her reports of research, of statistics and successful case studies, and to her outline of student involvement. She had nearly 200 students willing to submit anonymous testimony to their enduring, or observing, abusive treatment by peers on school grounds. And she had close to 75 who would openly attest to their own ignored suffering. While she understood the school was large, 275 students was by no means a small number, and it had been reached entirely by her and just a few others approaching those they'd witnessed bear repeated bullying. If given permission to utilize additional resources, she suspected the number of students who'd support a new way of doing things would grow exponentially.

Still, the principal remained doubtful that the school board would see things her way, and she knew his hands were essentially tied without their support.

"I understand, Principal Figgins, that the high school caste system is an accepted part of the ritual and experience we students are expected to have. I agree that, to some extent, the members of our school board will wish to dismiss this effort with such trite and ridiculous justifications as "children tease" and "boys will be boys," and even accusations that the "less-popular" are merely too sensitive or overly jealous. But the truth is, too many students here at William McKinley don't feel safe, and I mean that, in most cases emotionally, which really should be enough for intervention, but even sadder still, in some cases, it's physically as well. This will not do. The school board cannot dispute the fact that every child has the right to an education. They _should_ not dispute that every child has the right to pursue that education without such fear. And while they may not like what I have to say, I believe they cannot ignore the echoes of agreement through much of the student body. If we're truly given the opportunity to build our case, and have it heard, they will have no choice but to act."

Her voice had remained clear and even through most of her comments, but a mixture of nerves and conviction, and hope that what she said would prove true, caused the slightest wavering towards the end. Without breaking eye contact with the man behind the desk she felt Kurt's fingers circle her own as Mr. Schue placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

There was an uncomfortable quiet as Figgins continued to watch Rachel's face, his expression thoughtful but without great feeling.

"Very well, Miss Berry, I'll see to it that you are added to the agenda for next month's meeting. Up until that time, you may utilize campus materials in your efforts to make your position known to the student body. However, keep in mind, that the policy you propose does not currently exist, and any negative attention you may draw for this will still require evidence and witness to be punishable. Understood?"

"Yes, Principal Figgins. Thank you."

He nodded as Rachel offered him a shaky but genuine smile. As she stood and made her way into the hallway, surrounded by her support system (and Ms. Sylvester, who was trying to push her way through), she couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself.

Of course, after hugging the Hummels goodbye and promising to see the others in glee, she turned the corner to receive the surprise of a bright blue slushie to the face.

And she feared that things may in fact get worse before they got any better.

!

Mercedes' day was turning out pretty fabulous.

Rachel's meeting with Figgins had been good, and she was happy for both her friend's success and what she hoped it could mean for McKinley. She'd gotten an excellent score on her Pre-Calc test, positive notes on her research paper's first draft in History, and had the privilege of seeing Kurt on a weekday, something she found wasn't missing any less with time.

And then there was glee, where she'd been finding it impossible lately not to have a blast at every rehearsal.

It wasn't just that she now had a true friend where before she'd had a competitor. Or that she had been given more opportunity to sing lately, often at that former competitor's request. (She was just coming off a two day diva-high from the knock-out performance she'd given of "Killing Me Softly" on Tuesday, and it had been Rach's idea.)

It was instead like a giant ripple effect had turned the club she'd already loved into something even better, had made it even more. Rachel's new bonds had somehow served to strengthen many of the other gleek's existing ones. All last semester Mercedes had been missing the close friendship she'd once shared with Quinn, and had felt often left out or unwanted with Tina, as the new relationship with Mike had taken up so much of the girl's time. But now, she felt as close to both as she'd ever had. These days they all were always hanging out somewhere, heading to this movie or that party, with constant phone calls and frequenter texts when they weren't at the same place. And it had all started with Rachel reaching out, but had since begun to spread. She'd found new friends in Sam (who loved watching Dr. Gregory House torment his team as much as she did) and Mike (who surprisingly had an amazing Motown collection on vinyl), better friends in Artie and Brittany (as they were all three equally obsessed with _Dirty Jobs_), and had, for the first time, really talked one-on-one with Finn last Sunday, as they took a break from practicing their song for Mr. Schue at Quinn's house, over the true genius of double-stuffed Oreos.

And currently, as rehearsal had just ended, she was driving a car full of several of these friends to Breadstix, sharing a look of amusement with Mike and Tina through the rearview mirror, as Rachel and Puck bickered animatedly beside them.

She saw Kurt (who, having taken the full day of school to spend time with his dad following the meeting, had met back up with them just outside the school parking lot) roll his eyes, but she also noticed the corner of his lips pull up in a slight smile.

"It's not even the mini-series version."

"Don't care. Not watching it."

"But I watched _Braveheart_ for you, despite finding it both tedious and excessively violent."

"Take that back, Berry. I don't tolerate people talkin' shit about _Braveheart_. Not even the now-public-crazy of Mel Gibson could taint the badassness of that movie for me, and I'm not even gonna let you try to knock it."

"I'll take it back, Noah, once you watch _Pride and Prejudice_ with me."

"Uh-uh. Nope. Not happening."

"Kiera Knightly is in it."

"Is she naked?"

"No."

"Then it ain't worth it."

"Noah!"

Mercedes pulled in to the parking lot, briefly wondering if anyone else in the car would bet against Puck ending up watching the movie.

As they walked towards the restaurant, Rachel hopped a little and linked one arm with her and one with Kurt. Mercedes chuckled as her two favorite friends started to sing "We're Off to See the Wizard," pulling her along as they fell into sync with the Dorothy double-skip.

Once inside they were shown to their table quickly, Mercedes slipping in between Kurt and Rachel on one side of the booth. Her eyes were bright, her smile wide, and her enjoyment evident at Mike's comical re-telling of an incident in Chemistry that involved Brittany accidentally spraying indigo dye all over Jacob Ben Isreal's pants, when the single most attractive guy she'd ever seen in person (which, was quite the compliment considering how much time she spent with Mike, Puck, Sam, and Finn, who were all way above average) strolled up to take their orders.

She had never been so mesmerized.

She could not help but stare, and her breath caught when his eyes met hers and seemed to lock there, even as his words greeted the entire table.

Her smile was starting to hurt her cheeks, but the way an unfamiliar warmth was spreading through her entire body kept it in place.

She was vaguely aware that Kurt and Rachel shared a knowing look behind her, and that when Puck uttered something borderline rude about taking their drink orders already, Rachel swiftly kicked him under the table.

Time had slowed, and she almost wished it would stop to freeze _him_ there, and she had never before even suspected that maybe all those movies hadn't been lying about love at first sight.

She felt Kurt squeeze her arm to try and break her stare but she was sure it wouldn't have worked had she not been simultaneously startled by Rachel's upbeat voice, as her friend glanced at the beautiful man's nametag.

"Hello...Max, is it? Lima's not a very big town and I haven't seen you around before. Are you new to the area, or just to Breadstix?"

Mercedes watched as Max gave a little shake of his head, as if the inquiry had woken him from a stupor, before offering her friend a dazzling smile. "Yes, actually. My family just moved here from Columbus over the holidays."

"Well, welcome then! Do you go to William McKinley?"

The smile deepened a little to show the hint of a dimple in his left cheek and Mercedes could have sworn she was swooning.

"Yes, actually. I'm a senior there. But, I've been mostly keeping to myself, trying to get adjusted. Is that where you all go?"

"Well, mostly. Kurt," Mercedes felt her best friend lift his arm to give a little wave," goes to Dalton Academy, but the rest of us our juniors at McKinely. And we're in the glee club there, too. I'm Rachel Berry, that's Tina Cohen-Chang, and Noah Puckerman and Mike Chang."

Tina smiled and both boys nodded once, the former correcting his friend, "I'm Puck."

Rachel just rolled her eyes as she continued. "And this is Mercedes Jones. She's really one of the most gifted vocalists I've ever heard, which is probably why she was also blessed with such a gorgeous smile. It's an asset in performing, you know."

Mercedes could feel her cheeks grow hot, but as Max's smile grew again she couldn't find it in herself to really mind Rachel's compliments, even if her friend was being so obvious. "Are you going to the dance this weekend?"

Mercedes felt her breath hold in anticipation of his answer, and would have been annoyed at herself for the reaction if she wasn't too busy hoping he'd say yes.

"I, uh, wasn't planning on it. I'm not a big dancer or anything, and I really don't know many people yet."

Rachel's smile grew to a whole new level of bright, one Mercedes found to be bother charming and terrifying. Which she felt kinda fit.

"Well, you know us now, and it should be a very nice time."

At the exact same time, Mercedes felt an elbow dig into each side, and she hated Kurt and Rachel for a moment for their pseudo-telepathic abilities. But she knew the cue, and swallowed hard before finding her voice. "Really, you should come. It'll be fun."

The look on Max's face, gaze reconnected with hers, when he said he might just try to then literally made her belly flop.

"Well, that's just great, but you know what else would be great? A coke. And a burger. With lots of fries."

Mercedes laughed despite her nervousness when she heard Puck yelp at another kick from Rachel, before adding with a growl, "Please."

Max nodded with a chuckle and proceeded to take the rest of their orders, shooting Mercedes another breathtaking smile before walking away.

As soon as he was (hopefully) out of earshot, Tina giggled and Kurt gave a sigh and a nod of approval.

Rachel hugged her arm a little before whispering, "I think he seemed really taken with you."

Mercedes blushed further as she whispered back, "Girl, I freakin' hope so!"

She'd had a fabulous day, and now she couldn't help but wish for an equally fabulous weekend.

AN2: Next up, The Dance. Hopefully some people are still willing to read it, because I'm pretty excited for the drama about to unfold...


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: This chapter is maybe the most trite/predictable thing I've ever written, and I'm kinda nervous posting it, but I loved every single second I worked on it. So, oh well. *shrug*

(Also, this was my first time trying to write from Tina's side of things….and I have logic for making her walk and talk the way I do, but if you find her to be out of character (or anyone else, for that matter) I apologize profusely.)

I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading (and reviewing…hint, hint)!

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my music.

!

At the sound of her friend honking, Tina grabbed the garment bag from the back of her closet, rushed down the stairs and out her front door, practically jogging to Mercedes' car.

Slipping into the back seat beside Brittany, she breathed out a quick greeting and snapped her seatbelt on. She was undeniably nervous, after all she'd never been to a dance before, but was slightly comforted by the fact that Mercedes and Rachel hadn't ever been to one either.

And that Mike had promised they could leave and just go watch a movie instead if she wasn't having a good time. (He really was such a good boyfriend, especially now that they were only doing dinner with his mom maybe once a week.)

She smiled as Quinn turned from her spot in the front seat to face her. "I picked up the coloring gel," the pretty blonde scrunched her nose a little, "but I'm not sure I'm brave enough to go through with it."

Tina playfully told the girl to 'cowboy up.'

She'd never in a million years have ever thought she'd be friends with Quinn Fabray, let alone a close enough one to do things like get ready for a dance together and talk about something so cliché and girly as their hair. But then she'd never thought she'd be dating a football player either. It was just proof of how much things could change, how fast.

"You swear it washes out, all out, right away? Coach Sylvester will literally kill me, and manage to make it look like an accident, if I still have even a tint of red in my hair on Monday."

Tina nodded. "I've used red, blue, green, purple, pink, and orange. All have washed out, no problem."

"But your hair is darker. Obviously."

"True. And...I'm also not a pansy, so maybe that helps."

Tina laughed as Quinn's eyes narrowed into a look that used to intimidate the hell out of her. "Alright, Cohen-Chang, we're doing this. But just know if I die over it, I'm going to haunt you. Forever. And in the most malicious ways I can find."

"Understood."

Brittany clapped her hands. "Yay!"

Tina turned to look at her inquisitively, only to practically choke on a laugh of disbelief when the girl explained, tone totally serious, "It's fun when friends who've died come back to visit."

Tina noticed Quinn just shaking her head as she turned towards the front again, while Mercedes barely held in her giggles as she drove.

Rather than further explore the bizarre world that was Brittany's mind, she decided to change the topic. "So, Brit, is Santana coming?"

(Tina had to say Rachel was truly full of surprises. She'd offered up her house for all the glee girls to get ready together, and had gone so far as to personally let Santana know that she was included, despite their rocky history. Santana had responded rudely, of course, but also curiously; she'd seemed genuinely taken aback by the invitation. But, to Tina's knowledge, she never gave a concrete answer on whether she had any intention of accepting it.)

Brittany shook her head. "She was thinking about it, but apparently now she's meeting some guy she met at the mall last week? She's not sure how late she'll even be to the dance...if she makes it at all."

Tina nodded politely. She had to admit she was a little relieved. She admired Rachel's attempt to forgive and forget, but she herself was a little less eager to spend time with someone so often eager to be cruel.

As they pulled up to the Berry house, Tina grabbed her things and hopped out. Lately she'd been a frequent enough visitor that she didn't even feel compelled to knock before letting herself in (something she'd never felt comfortable enough to do anywhere else, a testament to how inviting she found both Rachel and her fathers), the other girls right behind her.

"Rach?" She called, just loud enough to be heard upstairs if that's where her friend was.

"Kitchen!" came a reply, followed by a second voice's laughter. Apparently Lauren was already there.

They entered to find Rachel scrubbing with a washcloth at the countertop, while Lauren wiped down the fridge, both letting giggles escape every few seconds. Rachel turned to the rest of her guests with bright eyes.

"We may have had an icing explosion."

Lauren snorted with amusement. "No "may" about it. Rachel got pink goo everywhere."

"Oh, hush. The tube wasn't piping properly, and I thought a vigorous squeeze would help restore the intended flow. Apparently, I miscalculated my own strength."

Tina laughed at both Rachel's misfortune, and the drops of icing she could see stuck in her friend's hair. She then took a moment to observe the spread of snacks and bake goods Rachel'd put together. Heart-shaped cookies, some of which had pink icing, and brownies, as well as several chips and dips, and what appeared to be finger sandwiches, covered the kitchen table.

Quinn, who'd also given a glance to the food, turned to give Rachel a questioning look. "Really?"

Rachel shrugged sheepishly. "Noah said girls are never ready on time, and that he'd complain less about having to wait if I provided snacks. I thought the other boys might behave similarly. So..."

Tina shook her head.

Mercedes grabbed a sandwich, and handed a brownie to an eager looking Brittany. "Well, you ladies ready to get super fine?"

Rachel nodded and headed to lead them all upstairs, and Tina felt any unease about the dance start to slip away as she fell into the joy of just hanging out with friends. Mercedes couldn't stop gushing about the possibility of Max showing up, and Tina was feeling genuine excitement for her friend. Quinn asked for her help with her hair (claiming she wanted to try a look that was truly _different) _and Tina'd had a blast braiding and twisting and combing in streaks of color, for an end result that pulled a satisfied smirk from the head Cheerio. Rachel zipped her up into her crimson dress, careful not to catch the black lace overlay that kept the look very _her__, while still fitting in with the other five girls in red__,_ as Brittany danced around with the curling iron in between adding ringlets to Lauren's hair.

By the time they all declared themselves ready (40 minutes after all the boys had arrived, and 10 minutes after those boys finished every last bite of food Rachel had set out), the girls made their way downstairs and Tina thought this might already be the best night of her high school life.

As soon as Mike stepped up to kiss her cheek, she felt a blush at the look on his face. He whispered that she looked absolutely amazing and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a big cheesy smile.

One Mr. Berry made them huddle in for pictures: a full group shot; one of each of the couples (her and Mike, Artie and Brittany, Quinn and Sam); one of Puck surrounded by the other three girls, Lauren kissing his cheek, Mercedes resting her head on his shoulder, Rachel swooning as she clasped his hand, all while he stood in the center of them smirking; and one of just all the girls.

Tina stood in the middle of Quinn and Brittany, their arms twisted around eachother, smiles wide and genuine, giggling at something Lauren was snarking, vaguely remembering how she used to think, that without glee, these girls would probably never talk to her again.

But now she laughed when Rachel's dad begged for one more picture, knowing better.

!

As they all walked out her front door, chatter and laughter buzzing amongst them, Rachel was beaming her brightest smile. Without hesitation Lauren, Sam, and Quinn followed Mercedes to her car, while Tina, Brittany, and Artie followed Mike to his mom's van, which he'd borrowed for the night. She herself headed towards Noah's truck, giggling harder when he jokingly called her "m'lady" as he helped her in.

She knew already that she'd have to thank Kurt for forcing her to go to this thing. While she was still unsure of whether she'd be seeing Finn tonight (she'd made it a point to let him, and Santana, know that her house was open to _all _gleeks before the dance, but couldn't deny her sigh of relief when both of them made their excuses), she knew that no amount of awkwardness could take away the feeling she had right now of truly _belonging_, not to just a club in name, but to a group of people. People who now really knew her, and really liked her, who appreciated her and wanted to spend time with her. Their most powerful connection may have been music, but it certainly wasn't the only thing that bound them all together. Not anymore.

Plus she felt quite pretty in her new red dress, and both Artie and Mike had commented on how nice she looked.

(She found that compliments were truly so much better when you didn't have to ask for them.)

The drive to McKinley was short, and she and Noah had pseudo-fought over the cd player most of the way. She had gained a begrudging respect for (older) Metallica through their friendship, but she was in a lovely dress and delicate heels and pearls. Obviously this was not an occasion for listening to the Black album. And while he mocked her for suggesting her clothes and her music needed to match in some way, she knew he was only teasing because he then put on his Rat Pack compilation without complaint.

Entering the darkened gymnasium 10 minutes later, Mercedes at her side, she was momentarily painfully nervous again. Not just wary of a run-in with the ex she was far from over, but terrified of the countless members of the student body who still loathed her, and of the memory of the frequent and stinging rejection received every other time she'd tried to blend in with the masses.

The student council had set up chairs and tables around the room's perimeter with some red and pink balloons as centerpieces, and twinkle lights cast a rather pretty glow on the otherwise uninteresting gym interior. It seemed a good number of people were already there, and she recognized the start of Katy Perry's "Firework" as Noah offered to take her coat and purse to the table Sam appeared to be claiming for them, seeing as Brittany was already grabbing for her hand to go dance.

Taking a deep breath, she thanked him, and followed the chipper blonde out to the designated dance floor, grabbing Mercedes' hand too.

Then, before she knew it, three more songs had played; and she was still in a small circle dancing with the girls, having such a good time she almost forgot other people were even there.

A little while later, as the first slow song since their arrival started, she was about to head towards the punch table for a break, when Mike asked her to dance (apparently Tina'd gotten caught in a conversation with someone from her art class, and he'd noticed Jacob Ben Israel eyeing her and thought he'd save her the trouble of refusing the little perv). She smiled as they chatted about trying out a new move they'd caught Brittany doing the next time they planned choreography for glee, and about their plans to see the latest Harry Potter movie (again) with Tina, Artie and Lauren the following weekend. She noticed Lauren and Noah dancing together not too far away from them on the floor, Sam and Quinn also close by, while Artie artfully spun his chair about, Brittany perched on his lap, their foreheads touching.

Halfway through Mike called for her attention, turning them so she could face the other way where Max was just walking through the gym doors, slight apprehension on his face. Their recent acquaintance looked around a moment before Rachel saw his face light up, she turned her head towards where his eyes fell and saw Mercedes, where she had joined Tina's conversation.

She felt a rush of giddiness for her friend, wanting desperately for Mercedes to have the very best night imaginable, only to feel her smile falter when she turned back just in time to see Finn enter as well, looking as handsome as ever.

Almost immediately his eyes met hers, and despite the dimness, she could see quite a bit of emotion passing through his gaze. He offered her a shaky half-smile, which she did her best to return before he strode out of her line of sight.

The song ended and she thanked Mike for saving her from Jacob, grateful for the distraction when Tina rushed over to inform them that Max had come right up to Mercedes and immediately told her how great she looked. They shared a smile for their friend, before watching Tina's boyfriend earn an audience as he broke out his very best moves for the Usher song that had just come on.

She began to clap along with the rest of the understandably impressed on-lookers as Mike spun and jumped, slid and balanced, popped and locked with undeniable finesse. But she couldn't escape, though she worked to ignore, the tickling at the back of her mind that begged for her to look for Finn in the crowd.

!

Sam Evans was pretty sure he was living in a dream. In no reality he'd ever imagined (which included some pretty farfetched ones by any normal person's standards) could he have thought for a second that a girl like Quinn would see anything worth her time in him.

Sure, he knew there were parts of him that were objectively attractive (his chest and abs, his jaw line, his eyes) and he thought that he was pretty easy to get along with most the time. But he was also socially inexperienced, a total sci-fi fantasy geek at his core, not the brightest guy around by any means, and yeah, his mouth was rather disproportionate to the rest of his face. So, while he thought he'd probably find a girlfriend once he started at a co-ed school, he'd never expected her to be anywhere near the goddess who was currently holding his hand.

He was crazy about her. There was literally no other way to describe it.

She was complicated; almost always doing or saying something that would contradict, at least on the surface, something that she'd done or said before. But she was really smart. And she was incredibly strong. And she could be downright hilarious when she wanted to be.

And dear God was she beautiful.

His eyes went to the ring he'd given her, resting on her slender finger, and he was hit in the stomach with a rush of both pride and appreciation.

"That Max guy has not looked at a single thing besides Mercedes since he got here."

Sam was so wrapped up in his grateful contemplation he almost jumped at the sound of his girlfriend's voice.

"Well, she does look really pretty."

Quinn nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"And you look gorgeous, by the way. In case I didn't mention that."

Quinn looked at him from the corner of her eyes, before returning her sights to watching their peers on the dance floor. "You might have already said something to that effect once or twice. Or six times. But I'm glad you think so."

He laughed a little at himself as he let a comfortable quiet resettle between them. He guessed he had said it pretty frequently since he'd first caught sight of her in her dress at Rachel's house earlier.

He really hoped she wasn't getting tired of hearing it.

But then he had a kind of random thought and he squeezed her hand lightly to get her attention.

She turned to face him, one eyebrow up a little with curiosity.

"Quinn, I can't not say you're beautiful, 'cause it's just really really true, but you do know that that's not my _favorite_ thing about you? Right?"

Now her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"I mean, I think everything about you, on the inside, is wonderful too. I guess I don't say that as much, but I want you to know it."

The smile that spread slowly across her face was one of the rare ones that seemed totally uninhibited and real. "I do know, Sam. But thanks."

"You want to dance again?"

He studied her profile as she shifted to watch their friends again, glad to see that wide genuine smile still in place.

She let out a small laugh, and he followed her gaze to find that Lauren had picked Puck up bridal-style and was spinning him.

"Sure. I mean, they are definitely freaks, but we did come with them willingly."

Sam smiled as he stood and offered his hand to help her up.

"And they're fun freaks. I just hope Lauren doesn't try to pick me up..."

Quinn let out a slightly louder laugh, shaking her head to perhaps clear the mental image. "Don't worry, I'll protect you if you she tries."

"I'm counting on that."

!

Finn Hudson danced at glee because he had to. And, sometimes, he jumped around rhythmically in his room when he was _supposed_ to be cleaning it; but just because he didn't really feel like cleaning, and he was all alone, with the music on real loud.

But he knew he wasn't a good dancer, so he tried not to be a frequent dancer.

He was really tall, and his limbs were long and awkward, so he figured it was best for everyone if he limited his relationship with music to just singing or drumming whenever possible.

Still, he'd wanted to be here tonight, and from the moment he walked in and saw _her_, it was clear why: he _desperately_ wanted to dance with her.

Because it had just been far too long since he'd gotten to hold her that close.

However, an hour had already passed since he'd arrived and he hadn't worked up the nerve to ask her yet. The memory of her walking away from him at Quinn's party still fresh enough to make him fearful of her rejection, but still he knew he had to try…he was just waiting for the timing to be right.

While he waited, he'd talked with a few of the other football players who weren't total assholes, and had danced to one slow song with Brittany, and one with some sophomore that he didn't really know.

But mostly, he'd sat sipping the too-sweet punch and watching her. In what he sincerely hoped was the least creepy way possible.

He'd never seen her look quite so beautiful. Her hair was curled loosely, falling across her bare shoulders. And the way the red of her dress made her skin seem to glow enticingly had him wondering if it'd burn his fingertips to touch her.

It hurt him to admit, but he honestly didn't know if he'd ever seen her so happy either. She seemed to be constantly overjoyed, her eyes sparkling and that brilliant smile of hers practically blinding. A flush of something delicious and carefree upon her cheeks.

And she was _never_ alone.

When Ke$ha's "We R Who We R" came on, he watched as she danced in unison with Brittany, some routine they'd apparently made up together and had obviously practiced enough to perfect.

When MGMT's "Kids" played he'd smiled as she'd hopped and bounced around freely, holding hands with Quinn and Tina, singing along.

She'd sat huddled with Lauren in a hysterical fit as Puck and Mike did a rather unbalanced dance-off to some Nelly song, and while he was too far away to actually make out the sound of her, he could still remember so vividly what it was like to hear her gasp for air when she laughed that hard, so it seemed for a moment like he was right next to her.

When he'd been out on the floor with Brittany he'd noticed her dancing with Sam, while Puck took a turn with Quinn. He'd briefly wondered first what the hell Sam was thinking, letting _that_ guy dance with his girlfriend, but was quickly distracted by how at ease Rachel was talking with Sam. She smiled often as she listened, then replied, grin widening as the blonde boy laughed genuinely in return. Finn was struck with the thought that while they were dating, he'd never once considered she could get along so well with his friend, and he wondered which one of them he'd so thoroughly underestimated.

Getting up now to refill his drink, more to have somewhere to move to than because he was legitimately thirsty, he froze in place at the start of the next song, and knew in an instant that her eyes had found him.

He turned to glance at where he knew she was and their eyes locked as Bruno Mars' "Just the Way You Are" continued to play.

It was like a sucker punch.

And, while he hated that all the joy he'd been witnessing for the last sixty minutes had fallen from her face, he couldn't change that he felt slightly better knowing that the memories were attacking her too.

His mom's wedding had been such a wonderful night, one of the best in their entire relationship, and the last really great one before the break up.

He'd sang the song at the reception to Kurt, and indirectly for his new family as a whole, but later that night, as they laid together, for what he hadn't realized would be the last time, on his tiny bed in his old cowboy-wallpapered room, still fully dressed in their fancy wedding clothes, he'd sang it quietly just for her.

And he'd never meant anything so much in his life as the 'I love you' he'd murmured into the softness of her cheek when he'd finished.

The song played now and their stare seemed to go on and on, and for a hopeful second he thought it might have been a sign. There were tables and chairs and students and emotional miles between him and her at the moment, and yet he could make out the sadness and the longing and something so bittersweet on her face. He was about to take the first step, to move towards her and just suck it up and ask her to dance, and hold her and try to convince her that the last few months hadn't happened, when movement at the edge of his vision broke the spell, and Rachel turned to face Puck who was now standing at her side.

Finn looked away quickly. Rachel had taught him about metaphors, and his heart twisted at the thought that this, just the way they were standing, represented her whole life, and maybe even her heart, right now.

He was so far away.

But Puck was right there.

With a hard swallow and fast steps, Finn put more distance between them.

!

"You okay?"

She looked at him as if startled by his voice, as if she hadn't realized she was even still there, in a room full of noise and people, and he could see a tiny pool of almost-tears in her eyes.

She looked back to where he now saw Finn practically running to get away and took a deep breath before forcing a smile and facing him.

"I'm fine, Noah. Thank you."

He didn't believe her; and for a moment, he really fucking hated Finn Hudson.

Thankfully, the song switched then, and he made an admittedly ridiculous pseudo-thug face and mouthed the Drake intro of Rihanna's "What's My Name" to try and distract her from her shithead of an ex-boyfriend and the sadness he hated that she still felt whenever that guy was around.

Something fluttered in his chest when it worked well enough to warrant one of her small-but-real smiles and a light laugh.

He lifted an eyebrow, and she nodded as he took her hand, spinning her under his arm a few times before she started dancing again.

He couldn't help but smirk, satisfied, as she slowly fell back into the music, into having what he hoped was a good time, rocking smoothly to the beat and singing along a little, softly.

This was really the first time all night he'd gotten to dance with just her, a little apart from the group, and he took a steadying breath as she grabbed his hand once more to twirl again, giggling at the skirt of her dress flaring out a little, before beginning to move her hips in a way that he was trying very hard to ignore. The chorus of the song came around again, and she sang it playfully at him with a joking wink, and he had to laugh at her; she could bounce back and forth between innocently adorable and unknowingly sexy faster than any other girl he'd ever met.

A tricky quality in a best friend.

She turned a little, shrugging her shoulders cutely, and he lightly placed his hand at her waist as he matched her motions, all in time to the beat. She shot him a smile again, even wider than the last, and he felt relieved.

The song wound down, and he was about to ask her if she wanted a drink, when he caught the start of the next one and instead, before he could stop himself, put his arms out in silent question.

Rachel stepped into them happily for a slow dance, linking her fingers around the back of his neck without hesitation.

_There may come a time, a time in everyone's life,  
where nothing seems to go your way,  
where nothing seems to turn out right._

"I like this song." She let out a little sigh, but it wasn't a sad one.

"I know you do."

"Artie could do this quite nicely I think."

"You should run the idea by him."

"I've been working on an entire list of songs for him, actually. I think he should get a solo at Regionals this year."

Puck half-smiled at that; Artie was his boy and he liked the idea. "He definitely has the skills, and he'd probably really appreciate the support if you were the one who mentioned it to Schue."

He felt her nod in agreement as she rested her head against him, her height placing it as much against his chest as his shoulder, and he suddenly felt very conscious of his heart rate and trying to keep it slow, even.

They continued to dance, him holding her carefully to him, and her, he believed, relaxed and content with their silence.

_That's when you need someone, someone that you can call.  
And when all your faith is gone,  
feels like you can't go on,_

_Let it be me_

_Let it be me  
If it's a friend that you need  
Let it be me_

_Let it be me_

He slid his hands along her back, following the flow of the music as he slipped his fingertips in a way he hoped was comforting along her spine. He accidentally brushed a little higher, dragging the pad of his thumb just a little above the edge of her dress, and he almost cursed out loud at how soft the skin of her back was, and how warm.

The warning in his head, in his heart, was instant and loud as a siren and he knew it was getting harder every day to deny that the Puckerone was in fuckin' danger… but he somehow already also knew it was really too late to do anything about it.

Schooling his features carefully into as stoic an expression as possible, he listened to the lyrics and tried to ignore the gentle puffs of her breath he felt through the cotton of his shirt.

The song ended and he unfolded his arms from around her frame, breathing out in a rush of simultaneous relief and regret.

His mouth opened to break the quiet with a bit of their usual teasing, when instead a voice he knew about as well as his own cut in and he turned to see Finn standing behind him, eyes on Rachel, hands fidgeting uneasily at his sides.

"Hey."

Puck knew the greeting was meant exclusively for the tiny brunette beside him, but he couldn't control the spontaneous anger he felt just at the sight of this guy, so he stepped a little closer to Rachel and smirked casually. "'Sup, Finnegan."

He watched, a little pleased, as Finn's jaw tightened. Rachel and Finn had been trying to play nice lately, albeit awkwardly as hell, but when it came to him and Finn, neither one of them had bothered much to hide their growing animosity.

"Hello, Finn." She was standing close enough that Puck could feel Rachel shake a little, though her voice sounded smooth.

"I was, um, wondering if you'd, you know, want to dance? With me? Maybe?"

The words "Not-fuckin'-likely" were out of Puck's mouth so fast he barely registered he said them.

Especially once the surprise caught up to him at Rachel's answer of, "Okay," which had slipped out at the exact same time.

What the hell?

He looked to her in a flash, and she looked up at him in surprise, and he could feel Finn's smug smile burning into his profile, causing the fingers of his right hand to stretch and flex, before curling into a tight fist.

Something bitter burned in his throat, dripping towards his stomach for an instant wave of nausea. Lately he and Rachel'd gotten pretty good at communicating without words, but as he stared at her face now, apprehension and bewilderment in her pretty brown eyes, he knew there were certain things when it came to him that she just wasn't seeing.

And while he'd been hoping all along that she wouldn't notice the feelings he was trying to fight, he couldn't help but hold it against her, if only for a second.

His lips pursed and his eyes hardened.

Fuck this.

He turned abruptly without another word, stepping around them and began making his way towards the entrance. He thought he heard her say his name, questioningly, but he didn't turn back.

He was walking so fast, frustration with himself, and with her, and with Finn, carrying him so quickly, that it wasn't until he'd made it safely out of the gym and heard the rapid clicking of her heels on the hallway linoleum, struggling to catch up with him, that he realized he'd desperately been hoping she'd follow.

"Noah? Noah, wait! What's wrong?"

There was legitimate uncertainty in her tone, but also concern and what he thought might have been fear.

He didn't turn to look at her, but he'd stopped walking. "Nothing, Berry. Go back inside."

"Not until you talk to me. Are you okay?"

"I'm fuckin' amazing. Now get going,_ Finn's_ waiting." He couldn't have kept the mocking sarcasm out of his voice if he'd tried.

"Finn? What does he have to-"

"Look, Berry. I was out of line, I can't tell you who to dance with and I was just being stupid, anyway. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to get the shit kicked out of your heart all over again, but whatever. Maybe you get off on that kinda thing. I don't know. But I can't stop you, and I shouldn't have tried."

Her face fell further with every word he spoke and, despite himself, he hated the way the sadness slipped across her features so much that he wanted to say something to make her smile again, but he was at a loss. He couldn't think of anything, except for how he preferred his anger and annoyance from just a moment before to the new feeling of resignation settling in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sor-"

"'s cool. Really. Please go…. enjoy the rest of the dance or whatever. I just, I need some air or something."

He tried to sound indifferent, at ease, but there was strain in every syllable and he knew she heard it.

He looked at her, hard, for an extended moment, a sad but pretty picture with her pouting lips and her red dress, and he hated that in a minute she'd go back in there and Finn would tell her she was beautiful, while he'd missed his own chance to say it.

Suddenly, he had to get away. He went for a comforting smile, but was certain it came out pained, then turned quickly and started walking again towards the parking lot.

It wasn't until he'd made it through the school's front doors, without a sound behind him, that he realized how desperately he'd hoped she'd follow…again.

!

Santana wasn't usually one for the stereotypical, guaranteed-future-nostalgia high school memory crap.

But she'd made it to every dance since she'd started at McKinley…albeit to some later than to others….because Brittany essentially _was_ dancing, and Brittany _was_ her best friend.

So, yeah, she always went. And she always brought a flask.

This time though, was a little different. Things had been a off between her and Brit for the last few months, and she knew it was her own damn fault.

She'd hurt the only person she'd really never wanted to, and seeing Brittany's relationship with Artie blossom unexpectedly into something truly sweet and adorable had filled her with more than one kind of envy.

And the fact that now Brittany had obviously joined the Rachel-Fuckin'-Berry Fan Club wasn't doing anything to stifle her budding resentment.

But again she knew she couldn't blame Brittany.

At times, the blonde could do or say things that were self-centered or cruel, even things that were remarkably slutty, but Santana knew at each and every example of this, it was her own bad influence shining through. Brittany herself was naturally accepting, welcoming, kind. Innocent.

As soon as there was opportunity for Brit to interact with Rachel without Santana literally whispering insults for the girl in her ear, it was only to be expected that the tiny brunette would be viewed in a different light. A fair light.

Still, Santana hated the fact that there was just one more person now she had to share Brittany with.

She'd never, ever, been any good at sharing.

Showing up to the dance tonight was a difficult choice. And not just because what's-his-name she'd met at Hot Topic had a skillful mouth, and the sense not to talk too much with it.

She'd been wary of seeing yet another example of how the only person she could ever come remotely close to admitting she needed, didn't maybe need her at all.

But she'd found herself in the parking lot, and then at the doors to the gym, and then suddenly inside, almost on autopilot. And her dark eyes instantly scanned the crowd for the exact height and shade of blonde she'd long ago committed to memory.

She didn't see her at first, but almost immediately she heard her, and without hesitation, Santana moved towards where a crowd was now forming off the side of the dance floor at the sound of Brittany's scream.

The students of William McKinley parted for her to pass, and while that usually did much to stroke her ego, she barely noticed now as her eyes zeroed in on what had upset her Brit.

Dave Karofsky and a few other football players were staring menacingly at a small grouping of the gleeks, with a few each holding back a squirming Sam and an irate looking Mike. Quinn also looked furious, Tina scared. Lauren appeared to be calculating how many she could take out before they decided they weren't above hitting girls. But it seemed their main target was Artie, while Brittany watched with tears in her eyes, "Leave him alone" escaping from her lips when one of the much larger boys took another step forward.

"I'm sorry, cripple, but maybe you were confused about what this little gathering is. It's called a dance. Bet you can't guess what people who come to it are supposed to physically be able to do."

Santana's eyes narrowed as she finally came to the very center of this semi-circle, and a few football players had chuckled at Karosfky's taunt before silencing at the look they saw on her face.

"I think you're the one who's confused, Karofsky. There're plenty of people here who can't dance…like your boy Watson, for example," she nodded at one of the players restraining Sam. "Of course, in your case, we have no idea what you're capable of…seeing as no girl in this school has found your face tolerable enough to agree to dance with you."

She remained unmoved as a few soft giggles and murmurs of appreciation rippled through the crowd that had gathered.

Karofsky turned to her, livid. "So, Lopez, I guess you're finally owning up to truly joining the band of homos."

She smiled threateningly, holding up a carefully-manicured finger to correspond with each point of her response. "First, the male population of this school would not be able to handle the degree of sexy hotness that would come from me roaming these halls, being all lesbian. So don't tease the poor guys." She ignored the whimper of disappointment she was pretty sure came from Jacob Ben Israel. "Secondly, Artie, Mike, and Sam here all happen to have dates for this dance. Who'd you come with? The rest of the football team? You really should cut back on all the "homo" accusations, Karofsky. People might start thinkin' you protest too much."

"Why you little c-"

She was quick to cut the red-faced jock off, all the mocking gone from her tone, leaving only a simmering anger. "Careful."

It was a testament to the powerful reputation she'd developed in the last three years that the man before her fell silent, though his mouth was shut tightly, anger evident.

He continued to stare at her a little longer, obviously furious, before he finally looked to his guys and nodded.

"This shit is lame anyway. Let's go."

The crowd dispersed as the football players exited the gym and, slowly, much of the crowd returned to dancing.

Santana found herself standing with seven sets of eyes staring at her, some in disbelief, some in appreciation.

Finally, Brittany stepped towards her, enveloping her in the tightest hug they'd shared in ages.

"Thanks, 'Tana."

She responsed in the voice she'd always reserved just for the girl in front of her. "Welcome, Brit."

!

After just a moment's hesitation, Finn had followed Rachel into the hallway after Puck, unsure of what he expected to hear, unsurer of whether or not he'd be willing to really hear it.

Coming in at the end of the interchange, and seeing her shoulders slumped as his best-friend-turned-bane-of-his-existence walked away, he figured he'd probably lucked out missing most of it.

He watched as she took careful calming breaths and while he thought he probably should have tried to look guilty when she turned and her eye's widened with surprise to see him there, he instead offered what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded, a little nervously it seemed, but with a tiny upturn of her lips. "Noah's just…getting some fresh air."

He nodded too, discomfort setting in at how awkward it now felt to stand with someone who once made it so easy, effortless, to just be himself.

"So….do you want to head back in?"

"Actually, I think I kind of like the quiet out here, for a moment. But you can…"

"No!" He cleared his throat to try to hide his over eager response, "I mean, it's cool. I'd like to stay here, with you. If that's okay."

He winced at the way he fumbled at his words. Why did he have to be such a freakin' spaz all the time?

She gave him another soft smile, more real than her last, and he thought it helped calm him down a little.

"So, how've you been? You know, outside of glee?"

Her expression warmed further, though he supposed it was for the people in her thoughts suddenly, rather than him.

"I have been well, thank you. Though I'm starting to really believe everything I've heard about the academic pressures of junior year. Most of my classes have gotten more difficult this semester, and I've been putting in quite a bit of time on my college applications. And Noah's, to be honest."

He swallowed his snide comments regarding Puck and higher education, and continued to listen as they walked the halls slowly.

"But, as you may have noticed from my presence at this dance, amongst other things, my social life has also turned out to be quite the feature lately. I've become very close with a number of our fellow gleemates, and have found myself very much enjoying the more common hobbies and entertainments shared by our age group."

"I've definitely noticed."

He tried very hard to sound supportive, but he worried a little of his sadness might have found it's way into his voice.

Still, her eyes were warm when she looked at him. "How have you been?"

"Good, I guess. I, uh, I've been doing some college stuff, too. With Ms. Pillsbury-Howell. Mostly just looking at stuff, you know. But there's a few places with music programs that I think sound pretty cool. Nothing fancy, or too far, but…" He shrugged.

She beamed up at him now, eyes bright and excited, and proud. And he blushed a little at the force of it, but also rejoiced at the expression he'd missed so much in the last few months. "That's fantastic, Finn. Really. Is it all vocal work you're looking into, or is anything for percussion?"

"It's all been vocal so far…but, if I thought I could get into someplace with the drums, that'd be awesome."

"You should lookat it from both angles, Finn. You have tremendous vocal talent, of course, but you are also an excellent drummer. You should keep your options open and select what you really think would make you the happiest."

He nodded once and smiled at her encouragement.

They'd made it to the choir room now, but rather than head inside, he turned to lean his back against the wall of the hallway. This was the most like their old selves they'd been with each other in a long time, and he didn't want to give it up yet.

"Kurt told me about what you're doing. With Figgins, and now the school board? I think… I mean, that _is_ really amazing, Rachel."

She blushed, and he almost had to suppress a gasp at how it managed to make her even prettier. "I just hope it makes a difference."

Struck with an idea, Finn breathed in deep for a splash of confidence. "Well, if there's ever anything I can do, you know, to help, just let me know. I'd be really glad to. And maybe even, since we work so well together…you know, as co-captains…I might be a good sounding board, or whatever? We could get coffee or something, tomorrow maybe, and you could tell me what all you're working on?"

"I, ugh…" She seemed startled by his offer, and was visibly struggling for a way to respond. Their eyes were locked in a familiar stare, but as she opened her mouth again and he prepared to hang on her every word, the door to the choir room opened suddenly, startling them both.

"Oh, Rach….and Finn? I'm sorry. I didn't know you guys were out here." Mercedes eyes were wide with surprise, and embarrassment. Max, stepping out from behind her, had a similar expression, cheeks pink.

Finn thought he heard the hint of a giggle in Rachel's voice as she responded, "I'm sorry, 'Cedes. I had no idea we weren't the only one who'd felt the need for a break. We didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, no, girl, it's fine. I was just showing Max the choir room. You know, 'cause of all the time I spend there for glee."

Finn almost snorted at how carefully Rachel kept her face serious as she nodded with understanding. But then Mercedes continued. "But actually we were just heading back. I got an Emergency: Drama text from both Quinn and Tina…you know why?"

"No. Everything seemed fine when I left, I hope everything's okay. I'll go with you."

Finn felt his stomach drop with disappointment as Rachel turned to him regretfully. "I'm sorry, Finn, but I need to go check on the girls. But, I'll let you know about the coffee. And thank you. For the breather."

She barely gave him time to respond before joining hands with Mercedes and rushing back towards the gym, the new Max guy offering him a shrug before he followed.

Finn let the back of his head fall to the wall with a thud, before letting out a weary sigh.

Kurt had warned him. He couldn't reasonably expect to be the center of her universe anymore.

It still hurt to be left hanging…

!

It had been a long night. Upon returning to the gym, she and Mercedes had found their fellow gleeks in a bit of a state. A run-in with the more barbaric members of the football team had put a damper on what had been turning out, previously, to be such a good time. Thankfully, Santana had stepped up to save the day (a notion that Rachel couldn't deny surprised her considerably) and everyone was okay, but the group had decided to head out a little early.

And as mad as he'd seemed earlier, she was grateful Noah was still waiting in the parking lot to take her home.

Spending as much time together as they did these days, and considering their slushie-filled history, it was really amazing how well they got along. They bickered frequently, playfully, but they really didn't fight. She was pretty sure she'd never stormed out on him (a rare thing amidst Rachel Berry's close associates) and this had definitely been the first time he'd ever stormed out on her.

As she approached, slowly in her heels on the damp pavement, he got out of the truck and met her at the front of the hood, guiding her to the passenger side before helping her in. It was a little thing, something her fathers and old movies had always told her to expect, but in this moment it was a reminder of why she wanted so desperately for them to be okay. Since that night he'd just shown up unannounced with vegan pizza (maybe even since that moment in the hallway when he offered his arm and some kindness, as Finn ignored her breaking heart... no matter the trouble she later got herself into), Noah Puckerman had been taking care of her. Of all the friends she had now, who were all so wonderful, he was the only one she hadn't had to work for. He'd liked her before she'd started making an effort, before she even decided to change and reach out, and there was no doubt now that he was, at present, her best friend.

Once he was back in the driver's seat, making no move to start the car, she turned to him with tears in her eyes. "Please don't be mad at me."

He was quiet a moment as his head tilted back and his eyes closed. The lamps from the parking lot lit the cab enough for her to see the tension in his profile, the hardness of the set of his jaw.

"I'm not."

"You look like you are." Her response was quick, and when he finally faced her she raised an eyebrow to punctuate it.

He sighed, turning away again. "I just hate that you let him get away with that shit."

"What...stuff?"

"Acting like he owns you. Acting like he's never hurt you. Like you just owe him your time."

Now she sighed. "It isn't like that. He just...I'm important to him. We were once close friends, best friends, on top of everything else. It's hard to lose that, too, when the romantic relationship ends."

He made a soft scoffing noise at that, but he didn't argue. "So, then, what'd your good friend Finn have to say tonight?"

Rachel looked down at her hands a moment, suddenly unsure of what she should share with him. "He was just telling me that he's been looking into some college stuff with Ms. Pillsbury-Howell. And that he thinks he wants to apply for a few music programs. He also mentioned that he heard about my meeting with Figgins, and that he'd help if I needed anything for the next step." She cleared her throat, an odd feeling of nerves coming over her. "He wants to meet for coffee tomorrow. To talk. About the anti-bullying proposal."

He shook his head a little. "I'm sure." He offered the ghost of a humorless laugh, and something about the way he wouldn't look at her made her ache.

"What does that mean?" She couldn't help but sound a little defensive.

"It means you know _exactly_ what he wants to talk about. And it sure as hell isn't you taking on the school board for his step brother."

"Finn cares about Kurt. And has had some bullying turned on him since joining glee. To suggest that he's only pretending to take an interest in this project due to some hidden agenda is a serious accusation, and quite demeaning. I think he deserves quite a bit more credit."

"You know what I think? Fuck that, and fuck him."

"Noah!"

"Hey, maybe I'm wrong, and if I am I'll apologize to you, and even to him if you want me to. But what're you going to do if I'm right?"

"What?"

"What are you going to say if he starts up again with how much he misses you, and how he still loves you, and how he wants to try again?"

"I appreciate your concern for what would then undoubtedly be an awkward conversation. But I assure you, Noah, that I'm not the kind of girl who'd be easily persuaded to reunite with an ex-boyfriend if she didn't wan-."

She was cut off by a frustrated growl. "Damn it, _I_ don't want you to take him back! He's never deserved you anyway, and it's his own fault he's alone now. He was too damn stupid to get over himself and hold on to you."

"That's not fair. I cheated on him."

"So what?" His booming cry filled the truck and seemed to stay there.

So what? She sputtered at him, startled by his sudden burst of anger, and unsure of what about the betrayal of cheating he didn't understand.

He must have taken pity on her rare and uncertain speechlessness as he inhaled a deep breath, then tried to explain, forcing pseudo-calm into his voice, even as his eyes stayed bright and intense.

"Rachel." Her heart fluttered at the sound of her name. He used it so rarely, she knew he was choosing his words carefully because he thought they were important. "You were the best thing that ever happened to him, and while I'm sure it sucked to hear what we did, you don't let go of a girl like you just 'cause she messes up a little; unless you're a fuckin' moron."

She just gaped at him, for she didn't know how to respond.

"But I feel lucky that he _is_ a moron, because I got something great out of it. And now, I don't want to lose that...and you know as well as I do that if you take him back, I will."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I don't know, I'm different with you. Better, I think? And that it just, like, comes naturally or whatever. I cared about Quinn, I think I even loved her, but it was a fuckin' struggle, every day, to be what I thought she wanted," he rolled his eyes a little, "what she blatantly told me she wanted. I tried to be a boyfriend, a dependable guy, for her, and for Beth. But I wasn't always very good at it." His eyes filled with a deep regret. "I was mostly bad at it."

"Noah..."

He shook his head. "It's true, Berry. So don't try and make me feel better. The fact is that, as much as I wish shit was different, as much as I still love that baby wherever she is, she's better off without me. It's just true, and I've finally sorta accepted it."

She watched him look away, swallowing hard, lips pursed firmly. He really was kind of beautiful, even when he was sad, but God if she didn't hate to see him hurting.

"But the point is, I don't have to try with you. You don't really _expect_ anything from me, Rachel. You never have. You let me be me, and yet you see things that no one else has ever bothered to. And every time we've been thrown together, you know, when I wasn't indulging in my general assholiness, it's just been so easy. There's no pressure from you for me to be any different, and yet, I am. I find that I'm finally _that_ guy, the one I wanted to be before."

"Did you ever think that maybe you're just maturing?"

"You're hilarious."

"I'm serious."

"Look, maybe it is partly that I'm starting to get that just saying I'm not going to end up a Lima Loser isn't enough to make it true. But, it's mostly you. And, yeah, I'm fuckin' terrified of what that might mean, but I'm way more scared of what'll happen to me, to us, if you go back to Finn."

She let his uncharacteristic seriousness wash over her, fingers wrapping in the hem of her dress as she struggled to absorb everything he'd said.

She gulped a little, feeling almost scared. Not of him, of course, just…it was as if he was _almost_ saying so many dangerous things, wrapped inside this rare-but-wonderful insight into his mind.

She felt the need to clarify. "You are upset about me talking to Finn because you think he poses a threat to our friendship?"

She felt an odd pull in her mind as his eyes dimmed slightly. "Yeah. Somethin' like that."

She smirked at him, unable to resist an attempt at alleviating some of the tension in his shoulders, in the air. "Now look who is the moron?"

She smiled at his "excuse me?" look.

"Noah, I don't want to lose _this _either. And nothing Finn could do or say will change that."

She reached over to take his hand and squeezed it. She thought he still looked worried, skeptical, but he nodded and squeezed gently back, before pulling his hand away to reach for the ignition.

"It's getting pretty cold. I should get you home."

She nodded a little, watching him intently as they rode in silence.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: I am SO VERY SORRY this has taken so long to get together. As soon as the Finn/Quinn spoilers hit me, a few weeks before the Super Bowl episode, my muse literally died. And I had a new one imported, but she got caught up in customs, and after, well, it's taken her a good long while to get acquainted with things. But I put this before you now, and you'll just have to let me know how the new muse did. Hopefully this chapter doesn't suck so badly people stop reading….if anyone remembers this story anyway.

Disclaimer: Not my characters or music, etc.

!

Rachel Berry smoothed her skirt apprehensively as she stepped gingerly towards the entrance of the cafe on Market Street. She'd watched Finn enter a few minutes earlier from her parking spot up the block, and while she didn't want to be rude and keep him waiting, her nerves were seriously limiting her speed.

This would be the first prearranged, one-on-one meeting between her and Finn since their break-up, and one of only a handful of times (some of which, mind you, really hadn't gone so well) they'd spoken outside of glee since the new year. The idea of being alone with him now both thrilled and terrified her.

But their brief conversation at the dance last night had left her hopeful. All along she'd been convinced that, if given enough time and opportunity, the unease of their present circumstances would fade away and leave them with the natural amity on which their entire relationship was originally built (and perhaps, then, they'd find a new opportunity to build something better, something truly lasting). Remembering the delight she'd felt at hearing the start of his college plans, and the way she'd been touched by his interest in her current campaign, she now wondered if that return to friendship wouldn't be sooner than she'd expected.

She spotted him at a table for two, right near the front, through the glass of the door, and took one last deep breath to prepare herself.

He looked up at the delicate chime as she entered and smiled, standing to pull out her chair for her.

"Still as chivalrous as ever. Thank you, Finn."

His pale skin grew a little rosy at the praise and she noted his slight embarrassment fondly.

Quiet fell for a moment as they looked over the menu, but soon a college-aged waitress came to take their order and after she was gone Rachel felt compelled to break the silence.

"Did you have a nice time at the dance?"

An unidentifiable shadow passed over his gaze. "It was alright, I guess. I'd never gone to one of those things alone before. It was, uh, different...but you seemed to have a lot of fun?"

"I really did. I mean, for the most part anyway."

He nodded at her, but offered no comment, and she suddenly felt they might be in danger of taking a giant step backwards if this didn't go well. And she _couldn't_ let that happen. Thinking fast, she jumped to another topic.

"So, you mentioned wanting to hear more about the school board meeting?"

He looked relieved, and eager, as he answered. "Yeah, definitely. Kurt's told me a little bit, but I'm sure there's a lot more going on with it. You meet with them next month?"

Rachel straightened her posture a little. "Yes. Principal Figgins has asked them to allot me 30 minutes for my presentation. I believe it will be one of only three things on the agenda that night, so it should hopefully be a large part of the overall discussion for the meeting as well. I've actually been working hard for quite a while on this, but the next few weeks will definitely take a tremendous amount of additional effort."

The waitress dropped off their drinks, and Finn brought his hot chocolate to his lips almost immediately as he nodded for her to continue. She had to pause, and stifle a giggle, when he spit the liquid back into the cup, his cheeks darkening to crimson.

"Hotter than I thought it'd be." He tried to sound casual.

She bit her lip a little to hold her expression in check. He was too adorable. "I'm sorry if you burned your tongue."

He shook his head with a tiny smile. "It's okay, thanks. So… what all do you have to do for the presentation?"

Rachel was instantly charmed, not only by his special brand of cute, awkward Finn-ness, but also by the genuine care in his voice. It'd been awhile since she'd experienced the exact rush of warmth only he could generate, but she was somewhat relieved to find that it hadn't been so long that the feeling was unfamiliar.

She took a moment to tentatively sip her soy latte, blowing lightly over the surface of the liquid first, before she began talking. And soon she felt the familiar ignition of conviction, something that lit inside her every time she really thought about what she was trying to accomplish. "Well, I need to get as many students involved as possible. It's no secret that the board, the PTO, the boosters, all favor McKinley's athletes. They are going to be resistant to hearing there's any kind of serious problem, and that, for a chance at changing the overall climate, we need to start holding every student accountable for their actions, no matter how many points they can score. Obviously, I will not be saying every last bully is an athlete, or that every athlete is a bully," she indicated him with a lift of her hand from the table top, "but I do believe the "turn-a-blind-eye" mentality has stemmed from wanting to protect the guys, and girls, who may bring in attention or money for the school, and that's done mostly through sports. It's going to be quite the challenge to overcome these people's bias. But, our plan is extensive and far-reaching."

She gave a definitive nod, and took another tiny sip. She appreciated that Finn knew her well enough to understand the pause didn't mean she was finished. "Lauren knew some guys who were taking computer programming electives. We met with them and they've helped us build a message board. It's anonymous, though they can pinpoint individual IP addresses so as to back up our numbers for responsible reporting and analysis. Anyway, it will allow people to say what's happened to them, what they've watched happen to others, in a safe place where no one who might try to retaliate against them for it will even know they're involved. They got the site up very quickly, and have been doing some testing, but I think we'll be able to take it live this week and I truly hope it'll get a good discussion going since it's designed to make the contributors feel safe, but heard.

"Then, Artie has been amazing in securing some A/V equipment and a few members of the club's time, and they'll be filming a documentary of sorts. Some of it will be shots of just the general atmosphere at McKinley, but we're also planning to have some "confessionals" with students on camera. I think the message board will be amazing in that it can shine a light on how extensive the problem is, but nothing can beat the impact of hearing and _seeing_ a kid who's been tormented, for no reason, describe what life can be like when no one cares what you are going through."

She took another quick sip of her latte before she was off again, raving about Tina and the art club who'd helped design flyers and posters that would be popping up all over town in the next few weeks, and Mercedes who'd been using her unparalleled skills in the word-of-mouth department to get more students than Rachel could have ever imagined to volunteer to help.

Somewhere in her long-winded ramble Finn's face had morphed from one of interest, and perhaps amusement at her animation, into one of unrestrained awe, and Rachel couldn't help but beam at the sight of it. It was impossible not to feel giddy when he was looking at her like that.

"It all sounds amazing, Rachel. I mean, this whole thing is, you know, huge, and super important, and it's all because of you. For what it's worth, I'm really proud of you. I…I've been thinking that a lot lately. About this, and with how you you've just changed glee for everyone, made it so much better. I…" his face flushed as his speech caught.

She was hanging on his every word.

When he started again, his voice was much softer. "I already knew how awesome you are, but I'm really happy everyone else has started to know too."

She tried to take another drink of her latte to hide her still-widening smile, but she knew he could still tell she was grinning like an idiot. But if anything, it just made his expression warmer.

"Thank you, Finn."

He smiled, and then she smiled, and then they talked a little about nothing until she regrettably finished off her beverage. She looked at the clock over the front counter and frowned as she saw she really needed to be heading home to finish up her homework.

She began to get her wallet out to pay for her drink when Finn placed his larger, warmer hand lightly over hers.

"I got it."

He shot her a faux-authoritative look as she opened her mouth to protest, which was adorable, but still she felt she couldn't cave on this.

She worried that letting him pay would make it seem like a date. She worried more that she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea. But this wasn't a date…it couldn't be.

It'd been great. _He_ was great. But one coffee and a friendly conversation couldn't fix everything that had happened between them.

He smiled sadly, as if he understood just that, as she placed her money on the table.

They made their way outside and were about to part, heading towards their cars in opposite directions, when Finn asked her to wait, pulling a red envelope out of the pocket of his coat.

"Valentine's Day isn't until tomorrow, so don't open this yet. But I wanted to be the first to give you one, so…" he shrugged a single shoulder, the left corner of his mouth pulling up cutely.

She laughed, just a little, to keep from swooning, before taking the envelope from his hands and putting it her own pocket.

"Thank you, Finn. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded with that irresistible half-smile of his. "See ya, Rach."

!

"Alright, alright, everybody settle down. Sam and Puck have prepared something for today. You guys ready?"

Puck nodded as he stepped up to the front of the choir room, slipping his guitar strap over his shoulder, as Sam did the same. He counted softly for their strumming to start in unison and as he looked to Rachel he saw her eyes light up in recognition.

(He already knew she loved this song. She'd told him one evening when they'd been watching an old FRIENDS rerun with her dads and it played at Monica and Chandler's wedding.)

He lifted a single brow at her before starting his vocals.

"_Hello, _

_I've waited here for you._

_Everlong."_

Her smile was instantaneous at the sound of his voice, and it was wide and bright and warm. Exactly what he'd been hoping for.

Things had been a little tense since the dance a few nights ago. He knew he'd surprised her with his outburst, and his confession, and he knew she'd met Finn for coffee the next day despite his wishes. The way she'd mentioned it on the phone afterwards, so casually, he knew she wanted him to think it didn't matter, that it wasn't going to affect_ them_. But it did, it already was. ('Cause again, things were still a little off between them now. And he _hated_ that.)

The truth was, no matter what he or she wanted, Finn easing back into her life couldn't NOT change what he had shared with her the last few months.

He wouldn't deny that fact, but he _would_ actively refuse to make it any worse than it needed to be.

He wasn't going to give Finn any more of an advantage by acting like a jealous punk.

Even if he knew deep down that's exactly what he was.

"_Come down,  
and waste away with me.  
Down with me.  
Slow how  
you wanted it to be.  
I'm over my head..  
Out of her head she sang."_

Sam joined him for the chorus and he looked over to share a quick smile with his friend, before the other guy's eyes went right back to the pretty blonde in the front row who was half-smiling so coyly.

"_And I wonder,  
when I sing along with you…  
If everything could ever feel this real forever?  
If anything could ever be this good again?  
The only thing I'll ever ask of you,  
you've got to promise not to stop when I say when.  
She sang…"_

Sam took his verse and Puck just kept playing, the sound of their two acoustic guitars filling the room in what he thought was a pretty killer way.

He thought Rachel's awed expression probably meant she agreed.

As they brought it back to the chorus he took a moment to scan the reaction of the rest of the gleeks. Tina and Mike were smiling at eachother. Brit and Artie were singing along. Mercedes nodded her approval when he caught her eye.

Finn just watched Rachel's profile, studying her with uncharacteristic focus.

Puck wanted to at least be grateful he wasn't getting glared at by the taller boy, a rare thing when they were in the same room anymore, but he was too annoyed at the way Rachel's smile brightened when she turned her head a little under the weighted stare of her ex.

He shook his head to clear it of envy as he and Sam nailed their finale, before forcing a cool smirk out in response to the applause.

Schue complimented them but he barely heard it, slipping into the chair at Rachel's side and strategically angling his body in such a way to block her from Finn's view.

He leaned in even closer to her to whisper, "So, that counts as your Valentine, Berry. I demand some sort of baked good before this day is over in return."

"You can't _demand_ a Valentine, Noah. It loses all meaning if the giver didn't elect of his or her own free will to bestow it upon the other person."

"Whatever. You know you want to make me brownies."

"Maybe I do or maybe I don't….regardless, I feel like I most definitely_ shouldn'_t bake you anything. Try and teach you a lesson."

"Screw that. I'm bad at lessons. I'm great at eating brownies."

Her posture was perfect, her eyes trained on the random scribbling Schue was scrawling across the wipe board, but Puck could see the little bit of an amused smile twitching at the corner of her full lips. And he only half-resented the triumphant flip he felt in his gut at the sight.

"Fine. If you stop by after rehearsal…"

"'Stop by' my ass. I'm coming for the brownies, Berry, and then we're watching the most violent movie I can find in your dads' collection. 'Happy Valentine's Day' to me."

"Noah, that hardly seems like a fair trade. I have a lot to do tonight, and you didn't even sing the _whole_ song. Sam did half of it."

He scoffed softly. "I sang the better half."

She just rolled her eyes so he continued, "And there may also be roses or some shit in my truck for you. Maybe."

He tried to say it coolly, indifferently, but he could see her shift.

Songs were nothing between gleeks. Brownies were nothing between friends. But roses?

She was quiet for longer than he expected, longer than he liked (he even wondered a moment if she started _actually_ listening to their teacher), and he could feel the discomfort of true worry begin its spread through his chest.

Then the twitch of her smile was back. "Then I suppose I _might_ be able to work _while_ you watch a movie." She shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe."

And then she was out of her chair, pairing with Mercedes for whatever assignment Mr. Schue had just handed out. Puck hadn't heard what it was…he was too busy smiling after her.

!

"What if she turned like this, then moved over with this cross step, hitting that down beat here?" Brittany demonstrated her suggestion with a natural grace and Rachel beamed.

"Nice, Brit. Very in-character; I like it. Santana?"

The slender, taller brunette at Rachel's side mimicked Brittany's movements, pursing her lips thoughtfully a second before answering.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. It's hot."

Rachel watched Santana repeat the sequence of steps for another moment, before she turned from her up-until-very-recently-tormentor and linked her arm with Brittany, heading towards where Tina was working out some blocking with Mercedes in another corner of the room.

There was a reason all of Rachel's female friends (and Santana, who, since stepping up for the gleeks at the dance, was a friend-in-training, she guessed) were in her basement, choreographing a routine to "The Cell Block Tango" from _Chicago_, but it shockingly had nothing to do with glee club or their upcoming competition.

No, they were all spending their Thursday evening learning lyrics and perfecting movements because Rachel Berry was totally, completely, and devastatingly stressed. And since she tended to fret, fidget, and freak out rather than relax when she had a rare night of quiet, Brittany suggested a girls' project, "just for fun," might be a good way for her to step back from the chaos of her classes...and the big presentation for the school board...and her growing stack of college applications... and the club's continuous preparation for taking on Vocal Adrenaline and the Warblers in a month.

(And her feeling that, somehow, there were suddenly too many men in her life.)

Dividing up the vocal parts had been easy since Lauren volunteered to do the announcer part and then stick to some background harmonies, the other six then falling into roles without argument. And for the last hour, as they all attacked the song like the now seasoned professionals they felt like they were, Brittany had been constantly at Rachel's side, throwing out ideas and demonstrating moves. Rachel was repeatedly astounded at how someone who, on a regular basis, baffled all those around her with her unique outlook and unconventional observations (and admitted ditziness), could, when it came to all things dance-related, offer a level of brilliance and clarity Rachel had never before seen in someone their age.

She'd studied with some _amazing_ performers at dance camp every summer in Cincinnati, and Mike Chang certainly had enviable fluidity and exceptional athleticism. But Brittany was truly one of a kind. In a lot of ways.

And Rachel was delighted to now call her a friend.

"Rachie, do you think it'd work for Q to do a slower spin, then have these two help her with the lift for the verse's end?"

Rachel found, to her own amazement, that she liked being called "Rachie." At least by Brittany, anyway. There was sweetness to the familiarity of it.

Once upon a time, this particular blonde's dislike for her had bothered her tremendously. Brittany had always been popular, but unlike Quinn and Santana, she'd seemed totally uninterested in making other people's lives miserable in order to stay on top. In all the years they'd been attending the same school, Rachel had never seen or heard Brittany (knowingly) participate in a cruel prank or (intentionally) insult anyone or (maliciously) spread a rumor...except for with Rachel herself. And the petite brunette had often wondered why someone who she'd rarely spoken to, and who seemed so nice generally, could hate her enough to act so out-of-character as to join in on her torture.

But things were different now. The latest theme of her life. The steadfast loyalty Brittany always showed her friends (which, as Rachel now understood it, was once what caused all the hostility between them - it was obvious the blonde would do almost _any_thing Santana asked), was now offered to Rachel as well. Brit had apologized one night, right after they'd worked with Mike and Tina on the "Just Dance" routine, for her mean words and actions, and Rachel knew beyond a doubt that the girl meant it. Ever since, there had been enough laughter-filled phone calls and inside jokes and hugs to all but erase the memories of their prickly interactions of the past.

Quickly agreeing to the concept Brit presented, they spent a few moments mapping out some specifics with Tina and Mercedes. Then, within another thirty minutes, everyone had a rough idea for what they were doing in their individual sequences, so Lauren cued up the music and the girls all fell in line.

Mercedes kicked it off with, "Pop," then Tina, Santana, Brittany, Rachel and Quinn followed. Half-way through Tina's, as the girl completed a particularly difficult turn, that Rachel and Brittany had devised, to perfection, Rachel felt the blonde dancer's hand slip around her own, briefly, giving a squeeze.

Proud and content (and still eager for her own verse), Rachel completely forgot all the stress in her life for a while. And she squeezed Brittany's hand back.

!

It was just about 10pm as Mercedes walked, slowly, from the darkened theater into the well-lit lobby of the cinema, her hand tucked into Max's.

Mike and Tina were at her side, both chuckling at whatever Max was saying, but she was too busy wishing the night didn't have to end to really hear any of them.

"It's still kind of early, did you guys want to get ice cream or something?"

Mercedes turned to Tina with a smile. The double date had been nice. Having the other couple there took off a bit of the pressure and nerves she felt for _officially _going out with Max for the first time, and as always, their presence was just enjoyable. She was about to nod her agreement to some frozen goodness, after Max indicated that he too was up for it, when Mike spoke up with an even better idea.

"Actually, I think Puck said something about hanging out at Rachel's tonight. You want to see what they are up to?"

Mercedes' smile widened further. She definitely wanted Rachel's input on the "vibes" she was getting from Max.

15 minutes later the group pulled up in front of the Berry house to find, without surprise, Sam's car there as well as Puck's truck. Mike knocked out of courtesy but didn't wait to open the door, and Mercedes heard Quinn's rare-but-genuine giggle immediately upon stepping into the house.

Following the hushed voices, she led the way to the kitchen where they found Rachel and both her fathers, plus Puck, Sam, and Quinn, all staring intently at the cards in their hands, a variety of candies divided into piles beside each of them.

Mercedes stifled some laughter.

Playing poker, with candy, on a Saturday Night? With Rachel Berry... _and her dads_?

It sounded like a ridiculous way for the head cheerleader, a sometimes-starting quarterback, and the school's most notorious playboy, to be spending an evening.

But she knew they'd probably all been having a great time, and she almost wished she'd gotten there sooner.

"So, this is why you couldn't make things a triple date?" Mercedes asked Quinn with a smirk.

The blonde shrugged, smiling a little herself, but didn't lift her studious gaze from her hand.

"She didn't feel like changing out of her sweat pants," Sam offered, his voice simultaneously conveying playful teasing and plain delivery of fact. He tossed a few jolly ranchers into the pot. "Call."

Quinn threw in her own handful of candies before looking up at the new arrivals. "Puck's the only one here who'd judge me for not looking like a Cheerio for one night, and he's too scared of Rachel to comment."

Puck's defense was immediate and indignant. "Am not."

Everyone laughed when one Mr. Berry snorted in response.

Mercedes watched Tina peak at Puck's cards from her spot just behind his left shoulder and then mouth "bluffing" to Quinn, as Mike wandered towards the refrigerator to get a drink.

"Anyone else want something?"

"Water, thanks." Rachel called over her shoulder.

Mercedes smiled when Max spoke up at her side. "Me too, please?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry for being rude. Dad, Daddy, this is Max. Max, these are my fathers."

Both of the older men smiled warmly, and when Max turned his head a little to thank Mike for the water, the one Rachel called Daddy gave Mercedes a wink.

"Nice to meet you both." Her date smiled before taking a quick drink.

"Likewise, Max. You play poker?"

Mercedes watched as Max chuckled a little self-deprecatingly. "Not very well, sir. But I've been known to try on occasion."

"You've got to be better than Sam. Worst bluffer I've ever seen." Sam scowled at the other Mr. Berry's teasing.

"Why don't you come in and take over my hand? I've got some reading to do before I pass out for the night like the old man I am."

Mercedes smiled reassuringly when Max turned to her in question, then pulled up a chair to sit beside him at the table after Mike and Tina agreed to team up and take over the other Mr. Berry's hand.

Within just a few rounds she and Max had managed to lose near all of the candy in their pile, but there were tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, and Max's arm was around the back of her chair, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder too frequently to be accidental.

"Puckerman, you have got to be cheating." Mike said, tone split 60-40 between true irritation and friendly bantering, as he threw his and Tina's cards down and watched Puck sweep a large quantity of candy from the center collection towards his personal pile.

"What-the-fuck-ever, man. Not my fault you and Lady Chang don't know what you're doing."

"Noah, language." Mercedes chuckled as Puck rolled his eyes at Rachel, even before she added, "Also, you really must be cheating. You are doing _exceptionally_ well as of late, despite the fact that Quinn and I are both quite proficient card players…"

"And are much smarter than you."

Mercedes laughed further at the cheeky grin on the blonde's face as she cut in.

Puck's jaw tightened a little, but his green eyes were still bright, his good time unaffected by the derisive comments. "Well, I guess I'm just lucky then, Q."

"Not with that haircut, you're not."

Tina quickly covered her mouth to keep her sip of Mike's soda from bursting out with her laughter at Puck's sound of incense…which came dangerously close to a high-pitched squeak.

"You did NOT just insult the 'hawk?"

Without hesitation he threw a marshmallow from his pile at Quinn, her laughter fading as it hit her squarely upon the forehead.

Sam grabbed a starburst and threw it at Puck. "Don't throw marshmallows at my girlfriend."

Mercedes' eyes widened as she watched Puck take a few Hershey kisses in his hand before pelting them rapid-fire across the table at Sam. "Keep her in line, Evans, and I wouldn't have to."

Rachel smacked Puck's arm. "Noah! I will not tolerate such misogynistic comments!"

When the mohawked boy just laughed at her and offered no apology, Mercedes couldn't believe what she was seeing as Rachel picked up her water and poured it's contents over Puck's head.

"Oops."

"Fuck…Berry!"

"Awesome!" Sam looked like it was Christmas.

Chaos erupted as Puck sputtered in disbelief, water still dripping down his face, his t-shirt soaked. Tina was practically doubled over with giggles, while Quinn searched for her camera in her bag, and Rachel just beamed proudly in response to Puck's glare.

However, Mercedes' own laughter stopped as she felt Max lean in close, his breath tickling up the side of her neck, voice low as he whispered in her ear, "You know, they are crazy, but I really like your friends."

Mercedes blushed as, across the table, Rachel turned from Puck and lifted her eyebrows noticing Max's now even closer proximity. She thought her friend's expression translated roughly to something along the lines of, "Get it, girl!"

She was about to nod at Max's statement when some movement caught her attention. Having noticed Rachel's distraction, Puck had reached down the table a little and into Mike's soda glass, grasping an ice cube and now dropping it down the back of Rachel's shirt.

Just to be sure she could be heard over the sound of Rachel's squealing, Mercedes leaned in _even closer_ to Max as she whispered, "Oh, me too."

!

"…but when I went to get up, they'd zip-tied my belt-loop to the back of the chair. It would have maybe just been an inconvenience if I'd shifted a little differently, but instead, the way it pulled at the chair when I tried to stand, the legs slid to an odd angle, and that, coupled with my body weight when I was pulled back down, 'caused the chair to tilt further, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor, my leg twisted beneath me, the chair on top of me, my backpack with my scissors out of reach. No way to get untied, no way to get up. It hurt; there was substantial bruising from where the chair landed on me, and also from where my knee hit the ground. And it was humiliating._ Totally_ humiliating."

Artie watched as the teenager on screen's face flushed at the memory of his embarrassment.

"After most everyone had left the classroom, some having stopped to take pictures on their phones, naturally, one of the guys I knew from the science club came up and cut me loose, the teacher stepping forward to help him then." The kid sighed. "But, of course, no one ever said a word about punishing who did it."

Shaking his head as he paused the tape, Artie made a couple of notes in his book for placement ideas. Sadly, this kid's tale was one of the least awful so far.

Editing this documentary was proving to be more depressing, more infuriating, than he'd expected.

Of course he knew how cruel the bullies at McKinley could be. How willfully ignorant certain faculty members were.

He knew firsthand how awful some kids had it.

He'd volunteered to help Rachel because he'd lived with the torment, every day, _for years_. He'd endured not only his fellow students' disregard and abuse, but also the obliviousness' of the administration. (After all, he was still annoyed whenever he remembered that he'd had to single-handedly pursue the access ramp for the school.)

And he hated what he'd seen done to Tina, to Rachel and Mercedes. And Kurt.

But, up until now, it'd been, in actuality, only a small bubble of understanding, only a tiny dose of anger. He'd only _gotten_ a fraction of what was really going on.

After spending nine hours filming the warzone of those hallways, though? And listening, over and over, to all these kids he didn't even really know, go on about how they'd suffered, many as much as him, some even more?

Well, it was hard not to be really, really freakin' pissed off about it all.

From their first conversation about the project, he'd noticed how incredibly, _intensely_ zealous Rachel was about this whole thing. And he'd thought it was just because, well, that's how she was about everything. It's kind of what made Rachel,_ Rachel._

But it turns out, at least on this topic, that enthusiasm was called for…. and contagious. Once he himself had the facts, the perspective, it was hard not to get wrapped up in it, on fire for it.

And as depressing and infuriating as the job of documenter was turning out to be, that feeling of fire also made it all rather empowering.

Artie, perhaps for the first time ever, really felt like he _could _change things. Like his efforts _would_ make something happen. Like he _didn't_ just have to take stuff.

Like he was going to make a difference.

His life had improved in a lot of ways. He had Brittany now, and hot-damn if he didn't adore her.

And he had more friends than ever, like Mike and Puck, who were, while unexpected, all kinds of awesome. And he was even on the football team.

But he still remembered…vividly…every second of the torture he'd put up with before.

He still felt apprehension anytime he was in the hallway without any of his friends around. Especially now that word had gotten out about Rachel's plans. He'd been slushied every day this week, and had only narrowly escaped being pushed down a small flight of stairs because Sam showed up at just the right moment.

And there were plenty of kids, he was finding, who weren't nearly as lucky.

He sat now and listened to some girl talk about the time some cheerios had broken into her gym locker while she was in the shower and written "FUGLY" on her shirt in sharpie, before moving on to the story of a time when they'd taken her car keys and thrown them into the woods on the edge of the parking lot…during a thunderstorm.

His frown deepened.

Yeah. Those bitches were going down.

He and Rachel Berry were going to see to that.

!

Rachel sat on Kurt's bed, eyeing her friend's frantic reflection in the vanity mirror on the other side of the room as he tugged and pulled and combed at his hair. She had seven shirts laid out in front of her and was supposed to be appraising them critically, having been instructed to seek out the most "alluring choice." But, unlike Kurt, she could tell very little difference between them.

They were all some shade of grey, and while two had collars and one had a tiny bit of texture to the fabric, she honestly just thought they were _all_ nice and that Kurt would look great in _any_ of them.

But she knew he wasn't going to accept that answer. Even when he had nowhere to go, Kurt's sense of fashion ruled leaps and bounds over comfort, and tonight he'd want things to be exceptionally perfect, as this was his first date with Blaine.

Or at least, Kurt, Rachel, and Mercedes all thought so. The word "date" hadn't actually been used, but there was to be dinner and a movie, and Blaine was picking him up. That all seemed clear enough, didn't it?

As she was still watching him, Kurt's eyes found hers in the mirror, and she was a little concerned at the level of apprehension in them. He looked more scared than excited.

But his voice sounded neutral as he spoke. "Alright, doll. What do you have for me?"

Choosing quickly and without the degree of consideration she knew was expected, she selected a thin sweater in charcoal grey and slid off the bed to hand it to him.

She was relieved when he looked more like his usual self as he raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but it was short-lived, as he then demanded, "Explain."

She should have known he'd require her to report her reasoning. He was trying to train her sense of style, after all.

"It's soft. Which almost subconsciously inspires increased touching. It fits you nicely, and will go well with the scarf you got last weekend."

He nodded, seeming satisfied, and she repressed a chuckle. Kurt always treated finalizing an ensemble as if he were finishing up critical international negotiations. How had it taken so long for her to pick up on how similarly intense they could be?

After he'd returned from changing, he stood before her, still looking uneasy.

"How do I look?"

She smiled broadly as she answered truthfully. "Fabulous."

His lips only tugged a little in response, and her smile faded quickly at his demeanor.

"Kurt, what's wrong? You adore Blaine, and have been waiting for _this_ for months. Why aren't you bursting from the anticipation?"

She watched as he further straightened his spine despite his already perfect posture, taking on a familiarly haughty expression (that she knew was a total farce). He opened his mouth to argue but stopped at her stern, "not-buying-it" expression.

He deflated a little, but she believed he'd at least be answering her honestly now.

"What if he doesn't like me?"

Rachel felt the confusion pull her face into a grimace. "Kurt, he spends practically every free moment with you. I'm pretty sure we already know that he likes you."

He sighed at her words, his eyes pinching and mouth twisting with exasperation. "No, I mean, what if he doesn't _like_ me, like me?"

She saw the vulnerability he so rarely showed willingly, and the pleading in his eyes for some vote of confidence, some indisputable assurance.

Her words were quiet, but steady and strong, like a profession of faith, as she stepped over to grasp his hand. "How could he not? You are _amazing_, Kurt. You're so talented; so smart and witty. And you _know_ you're quite pleasant to look at." She winked as she shook their clasped hands a little. "You make everyone around you better. You make everything you are a part of more fun. Blaine's wonderful, too, don't get me wrong…but don't you dare forget for a second that _he's_ the lucky one. He gets to go out with _you_."

She felt like such a silly girl as she had tears in her eyes, but it was all true. Yes, Kurt had once been the enemy, or at the very least, the verbally brutal competition. But now…. Now, he was one of her greatest allies, and she couldn't have meant her words more.

She felt relief when she noticed his eyes were at least also glassy, and he squeezed her hand before letting it go and smoothing out his sweater (and his composure).

He cleared his throat and re-formed his features into a show of ease and confidence before speaking. "You know, you are absolutely right. I am _definitely_ a catch. Thank you, Ms. Berry, for the reminder."

He bowed.

She giggled and shook her head. "Anytime, Kurt. Anytime."

!

Finn had been ecstatic to find things with Rachel so much easier in the two weeks since their coffee non-date, his comfort with her coming back stronger with every interaction. They joked around more in glee than they had since even before the break up, and she talked to him a little before Spanish started a few times. He'd also returned to her lunch table, though it was much more crowded than when they'd been dating (Puck had obviously been sitting with her every day for months now, and Finn couldn't remember the last time he saw Brittany, Mike, Sam, or Quinn at their old jock/cheerios table.)

When she turned to him as glee was winding down on Thursday and invited him bowling over the weekend, citing with a blush how much she knew he liked it, he wasn't _so_ surprised that he couldn't manage to play it cool.

Though, as she continued talking, he was disappointed to find out that it was a group thing.

The entire club was going. (Apparently Artie'd heard the larger alley two exits outside of Lima had just gotten the steel ramps for wheelchair-bound bowlers and was eager to try them out. As a huge fan of _The Big Lebowski_, Artie couldn't help but have a certain reverence for the game even though he'd never bowled before.)

And to Finn's surprise, Kurt was supposed to be joining in on the fun too. (Though Rachel laughed as she reported that his stepbrother refused to actually participate and swore he'd be bringing sanitary wipes and a tarp to cover his chair.)

He knew that, to be totally honest, as much as he _did_ love bowling, he would much rather be spending time with Rachel alone. But he liked the wide, friendly smile she wore while she asked him, and the warmth in her eyes as she waited for his response, so despite feeling a little uncertain about what might happen when he finally got to see her new life up close, he agreed.

And he thought of her pleased grin the entire evening, while he was supposed to be doing his U.S. History chapter review.

Everyone was meeting at Rachel's house to car pool (a common way of doing things these days apparently, as the rest of their teammates were now prone to lingering there either before or after they actually went out and did anything - Finn could barely comprehend how much things had changed), but, as nervous as he was, in order to preserve his get away car in case things got too awkward, he made up a reason he could barely remember to meet them at the alley itself instead.

He'd been waiting in the parking lot of Champion Bowl for four long minutes before Mike Chang's mom's minivan pulled into the lot.

However, any relief he'd felt at the sight vanished when it was Mike, Sam, and Puck who climbed out, before helping Artie into his chair and heading towards him.

"Wait, where are the girls?"

He'd been asking any of them BUT Puck, so of course that's exactly who answered.

"Those crazy bitches were in the mood to listen to some damn CD and exiled us from the fuckin' car."

"Dude!"

"Sorry, Chang. You're right, Tina's neither crazy nor a bitch so I take back whichever one you're offended by. But before you say a word Evans, _we_ know that _I_ know that _you_ know that your girl is both, and I won't make you admit it but I sure as hell ain't takin' it back."

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, but smiled, while Puck and Artie pounded fists.

Finn hated that though he considered Sam and Artie to be his good friends, the fact that they were such great friends with Puck now made him feel out of place. But he took a calming breath to shake those thoughts away.

This night was just getting started, and as Kurt had reminded him frequently, Rachel was friends with Puck. He needed to get over this grudge, at least a little, or he was going to ruin already what he was just starting to get back.

The sound of music blasting through an expensive stereo system caught his and the other guys' attention as Kurt's SUV pulled in. The girls started hopping out before the vehicle was totally parked, and continued singing along even after the car was off.

"_The only thing you've got,_

_You know you're better off without it…"_

Finn thought he recognized it from something Rachel had played for him once, but he couldn't remember the band. All the same, as soon as he caught sight of her, his lips pulled up into a difficult-to-contain grin.

She was skipping, arm linked with a laughing Quinn's, wearing a blue bowling shirt (God only knew where she got it), her hair in a bouncy ponytail.

She smiled when she saw him and offered a quiet, "Glad you could make it," as he fell in step with her. But he tried not to show his disappointment when, before he could really capture her attention, Puck interrupted obnoxiously to trash talk their two mutual exes, making Quinn laugh even harder as Rachel started ranting competitively.

Forty minutes later, Finn found his head spinning from the chaos of his gleemates with their new beyond-the-choir-room dynamic.

They'd taken over four lanes, and basically scared off all other patrons from bowling too close to their area. After several requests at the front desk (Santana's really coming out more as a demand), their group had been given access to the alley's DJ station (that was typically only used for late night glow bowling and birthday parties) and the game was frequently delayed as whoever was supposed to be bowling was too busy choosing the next song for them to sing along too.

Finn was enjoying himself, though. Mostly.

He and Sam had made up silly team names for each lane (which no one else seemed to truly appreciate but they both found to be awesome), and he'd teased Kurt in what truly felt like a brotherly way, as the smaller boy finally caved and put on the rented shoes under the pressure of Mercedes' glare.

But other than a few smiles here and there when she glanced his way, he and Rachel hadn't interacted much.

She was at a lane with Tina and Lauren. Mike, Puck, Brittany, and Artie teamed up on the lane between them. The din was distracting, with so many conversations and so much laughing and loud music all happening at once. Occasionally he could hear her laugh above the rest, and at her shriek he turned his head quickly to see that Puck had snuck up behind her as she went to bowl, causing her to jump and drop her bowl without aim, it rolling straight for the gutter. She was yelling as she turned to her "unapologetic antagonist," but Finn could see the amusement in her eyes and he'd never before been so jealous of someone getting screamed at.

He was suddenly distracted as Santana's voice came over the DJ's mic dedicating a "super hot jam to alls my glee bitches," queuing up the intro to Eminem's "Lose Yourself." Immediately, all eyes turned to Artie as he started rapping along hitting every syllable perfectly, everyone else joining in for as much as they knew. When it got to the chorus, Finn sang along through a smile as Rachel (cutely, but not successfully) tried to look tough as she spat out the words. And he was suddenly sure this trip out was worth any bit of discomfort he experienced just to see the look of pure elation on her face as the song ended and she was smooshed into a group hug with Artie and Lauren.

"I'm glad you came."

Startled at the sound of another guy's voice, Finn turned his head to see that Sam had sat back down beside him while he'd been lost, staring at Rachel.

"Um, thanks, man. Me too."

"Things have really changed since I first joined up, you know?"

Unsure of where Sam was headed with this topic, Finn merely nodded.

"And it's awesome. Really. I feel like, all of a sudden, I really _fit_ here. And that's kind of a big deal. Not just because I'm still kinda new, but because the way glee is now? It's even newer than I am. Things are really sort of epic, you know. How everyone's really coming together." The blonde boy's eyes fell to the tiny brunette now laughing hysterically at something with Tina. "And it's 'cause of Rachel."

Finn felt himself nod again, despite feeling a growing confusion. Nothing Sam said was untrue…but why was he saying it?

"You were my first real friend here, Finn, and despite the we-both-want-to-be-starting-quarterback stuff, and the you-used-to-date-my-girlfriend-stuff, I think we're pretty good friends. So it's been kind of noticeable that you haven't been around for a lot of this." Sam indicated the madness of the other 11 people with a bob of his head. "I'm not saying I blame you or anything. I don't know what I'd do if Quinn ever cheated on me…it probably wouldn't be pretty. But I can't really blame Rachel, either. 'Cause while I know she messed up, she's still, like, _Rachel._ And Quinn would be totally miserable without her anymore. Anyway…I guess, I'm just saying, _this_, _glee_, it feels, like, all the way right. Now that you're here too."

Finn was at a loss for words as something he'd barely been aware that he was feeling eased away.

He'd acknowledged for quite a while now that he was jealous of everyone spending so much time with Rachel, enjoying all the things about her that he missed so much. But, feeling relieved now at Sam's awkward but appreciated admission, Finn realized how very jealous he'd been of Rachel spending time with everyone else. It wasn't her fault, or at least he knew she hadn't done it on purpose. But in building these new friendships, like crazy super strong ones, while still putting distance between herself and him, she'd caused the same distance between him and the other gleeks, too. He'd missed Sam and Artie. All of them really (except Puck). And he'd been let down, feeling like they hadn't missed him back.

But apparently, he'd been wrong. And, for once, he really liked the sound of that.

He was broken from his thoughts as Santana snapped at him, jokingly-ish, to hurry up and take his turn so she could beat him already.

He laughed and shoved passed her playfully as he grabbed his ball and stepped up to roll.

He paused then a moment and looked over a lane, surprised to find Rachel's gaze already on him.

She blushed a little, he knew because she'd been caught staring, yet she smiled, small but bright, and he felt himself smile back on instinct.

And then he bowled a strike.

Later, as he walked to the parking lot, talking with Lauren about how awesome pizza rolls were, with plans to play video games with Artie and Mike the next day? He was pretty sure the feeling of victory flittering in his belly had nothing to do with how he'd had the high score for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter, and a great big hug of gratitude to those who reviewed.

Disclaimer: You all know what I don't own, right?

!

It wasn't that Mike didn't like Finn. Not at all.

Mike thought the tall quarterback was, for the most part, a good and well-intentioned guy, and other than a few instances of annoyance or frustration, he liked him just fine.

Plus he would even admit that he actually owed Finn, just a little. Had Hudson not broken the barriers down first, Mike would have never found glee…or Tina, really…and he was extremely grateful for both.

But, despite the shared interest of football, and then glee club too, he'd never been particularly close to Finn Hudson. And, to be honest, he'd never really thought much about it either.

After all, he was a pretty quiet guy, and Finn had _always_ had his own stuff going on, even before show choirs and pregnancies and blonde/brunette love triangles (or squares). So they were acquaintances who'd trade a nod of acknowledgement in the hallway, a fist pound for a job well done on the field, but pretty much always left it at that.

Not everyone has to be a best friend, you know?

But, he'd also never really been close to _anyone_ besides Matt until this year. But then Tina happened. And anymore he felt as if he was with Puck, and Sam and Artie, like, _all_ the time. So, yeah, he knew things could always change.

Still…when Finn Hudson's name flashed on the screen of his phone at 12:26 on Sunday afternoon? Mike was pretty taken aback. 'Cause, well, he was pretty sure Finn had _never _called him before. (In fact, he had forgotten he even had the guy's number programmed in his phone, a months-old result of Rachel _making _the whole club put everyone's numbers in their contacts.) So it was definitely out of the ordinary, even if they were both supposed to be heading to Artie's in less than an hour for some video-gaming.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mike. It's, uh, Finn."

Mike wasn't sure, but he kind of thought the guy sounded a little nervous.

"Hey, man. What's up?"

"Not too much or anything, except, well, my truck wouldn't start up this morning, and Burt's promised to take a look at it later, but I was kind of wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me a ride to Artie's? If it's not too much trouble?"

The words spilled out of Finn's mouth and over the phone line at a much faster pace than Mike would have ever expected, and he thought that was probably a lingering side effect of having once dated Rachel Berry.

Regardless, the new Hummel/Hudson home _was_ on his way.

"Yeah, sure thing. I guess I'll be there in, like, 20 minutes?"

There may have been a sigh of relief on Finn's end. "Awesome. Thanks so much, man. I really appreciate it."

There was a slight awkward pause before Mike ended the call with a "See you then."

Twenty-seven minutes later, driving with Finn folded almost comically into the passenger's seat of his compact car, Mike feared more awkward silence was inevitable, but opted for small talk in hopes of putting it off for as long as possible.

"Congrats on the victory last night, by the way. Didn't know you were such a skilled bowler."

Mike shot a look out of the corner of his eye as Finn's face transformed with playful smugness. "Well, yeah, I don't mean to brag…but I am kind of a bowling _master." _Finn shrugged. "Not that you didn't put up a respectable fight, Chang."

Mike's mouth twitched with a little smile around his own faux-glare. "Whatever, I was totally taking it easy, didn't want to steal all the fun out of it for everyone else. Had I known such a competitor was in my midst? I'd have brought my A-game, and _you'd_ have gone home disappointed."

Finn let out an almost child-like laugh, jumping on the implied challenge. "We'll just have to have a rematch then, settle this matter on the lanes."

"You're on, Hudson."

Mike smiled a little wider now as Finn, looking much more comfortable all of a sudden, reached forward to turn up the radio slightly.

"I love these guys."

"The Black Keys? Thank you!" Mike gave a definitive nod. "Puck and I keep arguing over them. He claims it's not that he doesn't like 'em, exactly; he just doesn't think they should have gotten the Grammy for best rock performance. But, whatever, sure Muse is great and all, but where's his Ohio loyalty?"

He turned towards his companion again, more animatedly now that he'd uncovered a new point of common ground, expecting enthusiastic agreement from a fellow fan, but while Finn was nodding, he noticed some of the comfort from just a moment before had slipped back away.

Reviewing everything he'd said, he tried to pinpoint what had brought out the shadow in Finn's expression. His best guess was that Puck was apparently a more sensitive topic than Mike had realized.

Finn recovered after a beat though with his trademark half-smile. "I totally agree… especially since it wasn't even Muse's best."

But Mike gave just a head bob, now unsure of what to say next.

After a moment of only the radio, Finn surprised him with a question, changing the topic. "So, do you and Artie get together to play often?"

Mike shrugged. "Yeah, lately. Well…I mean, not_ too_ often, 'cause with practices and stuff I do try to spend most my free time with Tina, but at least once a week? Sam's into it too, but can't ever on Sundays 'cause he spends those with Quinn."

Finn made a face, which Mike suspected was a reaction to his own Sunday memories with the blonde cheerleader, before asking, "And Puck?"

Mike recognized the attempt at nonchalance but thought Finn Hudson should probably steer clear of theater, 'cause he was definitely not cut out for acting.

"Uh yeah, he joins in occasionally. And him and Artie get into the trash talk like you wouldn't believe. But it's usually only when there's some girls' night happening or whatever. 'Cause otherwise he's…um, he's probably with Rachel."

"Oh."

Finn was looking out his window now, but Mike could make out an expression through the side view mirror. One he felt would best be described as "crestfallen."

Mike's mind was racing, trying to find something safe to bring up to move away from this new tension or whatever, when Finn's voice surprised him.

"Do you think they're going to get together? Puck and Rachel?"

After a few seconds of shock at the completely unexpected directness, punctuated by wide eyes and some excessive blinking, Mike cleared his throat uncomfortably.

He certainly felt strong loyalty to both Puck and Rachel, one that he sensed indulging in this conversation might contradict. Plus, he and Finn _weren't_ the very best of friends, so it was a pretty awkward inquiry to begin with. But, then, after a moment, he couldn't help but think about Tina, and about what he imagined he'd feel like if they broke up and he thought she was moving on to someone else, and he felt himself shudder at the notion. He _loved_ Tina. And while he believed Finn was far from faultless in the demise of the quarterback's relationship with Rachel, he was still pretty freakin' certain the guy _loved_ her too.

Mike pondered the question again, one that had sounded hesitant, yet resigned, as if Finn just couldn't fight off any longer how badly he wanted to know. Sounding similarly hesitant but resigned, Mike found himself answering honestly.

"I really couldn't say, man. Do they sometimes seem like they are already dating? Well, yeah. But they also bicker just as often like they are brother and sister. And sometimes they seem like neither one of them would be opposed to committing murder if there weren't so many witnesses around. Like, I've _never _seen Puck get so angry as when Rachel signed him up for some Saturday morning volunteer work with senior citizens at the J.C.C. without asking." Mike shrugged. "Whatever's going on between them is complicated, and I'm pretty sure as much time as I've spent with them lately, I don't know the half of it."

Mike sighed then when one glance had him panicking that Finn Hudson may start crying right in front of him and was quick to continue, though he hated how it felt like an almost-betrayal to be putting the words out there. "But…Rach talks to Tina, and Tina talks to me, and from what I've heard, I don't think they'll start dating anytime soon." Mike let out a second sigh, "Rachel isn't over you. As much as she obviously cares about Puck, and he, her, they both still know that."

Finn nodded, slowly but repeatedly, and his eyes indicated he was somewhere far away in his thoughts. Mike flexed his fingers against the top of the steering wheel, slowing down as they approached the turn for Artie's street.

He felt guilty, like he was putting his nose where it didn't belong, talking about someone else's feelings, but he also felt a little reluctant pride when he saw a small genuine smile tug at Finn's lips. Probably the realest smile the quarterback had worn in weeks, maybe months, and he'd helped put it there.

He parked and opened his door, moving to get out when Finn's voice made him pause.

"Thanks, Mike. For the ride, and for, you know…"

The guy sounded so sincere, and Mike thought, in that moment, maybe he and Finn Hudson would end up close friends after all.

Which, now that he_ was_ thinking about it, didn't really sound too bad.

He shrugged with just the hint of smirk. "No problem, man. That's what friends are for."

!

She shouldn't be afraid, really. Sure, she'd been ignored or picked on most of her life by the school's general public, but a slushie here or there wasn't really a big deal...comparatively.

Tina had never had to endure much worse than the sticky bath of artificially flavored slush and a snide remark or two (thousand). Yet, after realizing she'd forgotten her pre-calc book (which she did need for an assignment tomorrow) and running back into the darkening school building, hearing a few of the hockey players exiting the locker room made something unpleasant twitch in her chest.

"Well, guys, would you look at this? When was the last time you saw one Chang without the other? Six months ago? Seven?"

Timothy Powers wanted desperately to be the next Dave Karofsky, and had the unfortunate quality of superior intelligence over the reigning football tyrant. And though hockey didn't hold quite as much sway as football did, Tina knew that really wouldn't prevent Tim and his buddies from doing or saying whatever they wanted. Especially in a near-empty hallway.

"Yeah, Mike seems to keep pretty close to her doesn't he? You know, he used to be cool. I wonder what's so special about her that he'd give that up?"

"Hmm. It_ is_ hard to tell what's under all that black and lace."

A few of the other guys had joined in as they got closer and she was stuck, staring into her locker, unsure of what to do if they didn't just walk on by.

"Hey, Tina, you're into that goth shit, right? Vampires and skulls. I've heard that dark stuff can get kinda kinky. Bet that's how you keep Mike hanging around, huh? The quiet ones are always full of surprises."

She turned around at that, a bit of anger flaring up under her still growing unease. But she couldn't meet any of their eyes, and she noticed now that she was facing them that they were much, much closer than she'd like.

"Y-y-you're not as clever as you think you are, Tim."

So, apparently her stutter _was_ real...when she was uncomfortable enough.

"Oh, I don't know about that." He smiled, and stepped closer again.

She felt herself shaking a little.

She didn't know what she thought they were _actually _doing, and she was pretty sure they weren't going to really...you know..._try_ anything.

But he was still too close, they were all too close, and she didn't like their words or the way the air felt so prickly and how she wasn't sure her voice would work at this moment.

She just really _really _didn't like _this_.

"It's really a shame you're such a loser. You're actually kinda pretty..." He laughed a little then, "and not nearly as annoying as the rest of your gay little glee buddies."

Tina shocked herself as much as them, maybe even more so really, when a retort snapped out. It was without thinking, and her voice was surprisingly strong. "Shut up. Don't act like you _know_ us. You don't; _you_ don't know anything."

Tina Cohen-Chang had _always _had trouble sticking up for herself. But apparently she could, and would, stick up for her friends.

(She wondered, just briefly, if that's part of what real friends were for...for caring about enough that you found yourself willing to do the unpleasant, the impossible.)

His smiled slipped at that, which turned his expression more threatening, yet she somehow liked it better that way. His smile was just creepy. "I _know _that you are all stirring up a lot of trouble where you shouldn't. And it's going to blow up in your faces...especially that bitch, Berry's."

Tina opened her mouth to speak, again surprising herself with her abrupt and unexpected confidence, only to find it wasn't needed.

Rachel's own voice sounded through the hall, from behind the menacing jocks. "You really think so?"

Tina gulped as the entire group of hockey players turned, quick and eager, to take in the sight of their newest prey. But Rachel didn't flinch... and neither did Lauren Zizes who stood at her side.

Tim scoffed a little as he stared the leader of the new resistance down. "Yep. I do. I think you are going to open your gaping, annoying mouth at that meeting, and after hearing you talk? Every single person there is going to understand _exactly_ why this whole school hates you so much. And they aren't going to really listen to a word you say; they'll be too busy praying that you shut the fuck up. They are going to take one look at you and remember why the jocks rule this school, and always will. Because we have something worthwhile to offer...and you don't. Things are going to stay just like they've always been. Us on top, and you, way way down at the bottom." His sneer darkened further. "And I'm really going to enjoy reminding you of that. Everyday."

Tina heard herself gasp a little as he shifted closer to Rachel, and was relieved when a growl and some knuckle-cracking from Lauren seemed to make him pause.

She then looked back to Rachel's face at she sound of her friend's laughter. It wasn't genuine, of course, but it was still light and melodic...sounding so out of place in the atmosphere of the hall.

"It's unfortunate your standardized test scores don't translate into any kind of life-benefitting intellect, Timothy. I don't really think that's how this meeting's going to go, but I suppose you could be right. They _could_ not hear a word I say...they _could _choose to let the unjust bullying continue without blinking an eye. And if that is what fate dishes out, so be it. It would be terrifically unfair, of course, but I'll deal. Because in any way that _actually_ matters, you will _never_ be on top, and I most certainly will _never_ be at the bottom. We only have a year left here at this school. I've already survived the last three with the way things are, so what's one more? And then I'll graduate, and go to a great college, in a big city, and my brains and my talent will help me rise up. I'll get roles and I'll get jobs and no matter _what _I do after this place, it's a guarantee that _my _best years are still to come. But you...from the looks of things, you're destined to be that kind of guy who peaks in high school. And, let's be honest, you're not really peaking that high, Tim. Not when the football team's around anyway."

"Why you little bit-" He stepped again towards Rachel, and Tina caught a flash of actual fear in the girl's eyes, but Lauren was quick and stepped solidly between their tiny friend and the hockey captain.

When Lauren spoke her voice was her typical monotone, bored and even, but somehow that didn't make her any less threatening. "Please, Powers. Give me a reason to kick your ass. Wrestling season's winding down, and I've got plenty of aggression just waiting to be tapped."

He took a quick step back, and Tina saw a flicker of a smirk tease at the corner of Lauren's mouth.

Once he was at a safer distance, though, his attitude returned. "Whatever, Tubs. You can't be around Berry all the time. Neither can Puckerman. And the second she's unattended, it's open season…"

He indicated with a flick of his head for the hockey to move out while his implied threat was left lingering, but not before pausing to look at Tina once more. "Later, Chang. Tell your boy we said hey…and that he should really keep a closer eye on you."

She watched them stalk down the hallway, grateful the confrontation was over but still overcome with what she assumed was adrenaline coursing frantically through her shaking body. She'd never felt so out-of-place, practically terrified, in her own school before, in a place where she spent so much of her time, every single day.

She felt Rachel pull her into a hug. "I'm so sorry, Tina. I never thought when I started all this that things would get _worse_. I should have expected it, I know, but I honestly hadn't thought things _could_. But harassing you like that? That's new, isn't it?"

Tina nodded her head, but was quick to cut off Rachel's next apology. "But don't apologize for them, Rach. If anything, I'm even gladder now for what you are doing. They didn't touch me, and yet I was so scared before you two showed up. Remembering what Kurt put up with, and thinking of how he must have felt, I just…" Tina took a deep breath and felt again that new surge of nerve. "You are going to wow at that meeting, Rachel. You will; and then things _will_ change. And when they do? We are all going to laugh at the shock on those assholes' faces."

Tina looked to where Lauren had her fist out for a bump of solidarity and gave a slight smile as she pounded it with her own.

"Damn straight! Couldn't have said it better myself, Tines. Now, Rach and I were on our way to meet Puckerman for pizza. He doesn't know it yet, but he's buyin'…you in?"

Lauren didn't really wait for her reply before leading the way towards the parking lot.

!

It wasn't exactly being billed as an official "Diva-Off," but Rachel could sense the nervous tension, and the competitive vibrations, in the air of the McKinley High choir room.

And, to be totally honest, it was rather surreal for her to be experiencing it all in an entirely spectator capacity.

Initially Artie had said he was flattered, genuinely touched, when Rachel had announced to the club a few days ago that she thought he was a terrifically underused talent, and very deserving of the solo at Regionals. He was even more moved, he claimed, when the entire club agreed without a single jab or complaint, without hesitation.

But, after going through the lengthy list of suggested songs for him to perform, and putting in a little brainstorming of his own, he'd surprised Rachel (and almost everyone else in the room) when he politely asked if he could instead take the male lead (with AC/DC's "Thunderstruck") on the mash-up Rachel and Mr. Schuester had been devising for the competition.

Right after hearing her proposal that Brittany head up the girls' half, the Go-Gos' "We Got the Beat."

Mr. Schue had agreed, and then announced that they'd spend the rest of the week giving all those who desired to be considered for the now open solo a chance to earn it with a performance.

And in a moment most shocking, not long after this announcement, Rachel decided _not_ to put herself up for consideration.

Upon exiting that rehearsal, before she'd even made it out of the school building, she'd been called upon to talk out ideas with Mercedes and Sam, and even Santana, as each of them began considering a few pieces with which they hoped to audition. Reveling in the flattery of being an acknowledged expert, and having already come to terms once with someone else on solo for the competition, she'd then voluntarily invested considerable time into helping each of them perfect their song selections instead.

She thought this was nothing if not concrete evidence of her character growth.

(The fact that Noah had quickly encouraged this idea, suggesting she opt for just soloing on a verse of their other ensemble number had _nothing_ to do with her final decision. While she'd found it sweet when he'd roughly admitted that no matter how many other stars were beside her on stage, she'd always find a way to shine the brightest, she refused to let such praise go to her head. Especially when she thought his follow-up comment of, "besides, a little bit of Berry can go a LONG way" wasn't meant _entirely_ as a compliment.)

So, now she sat, prepared to watch, proudly, what she knew was going to be a really tough battle to call.

First, Mercedes started things off with a rousing, flawless rendition of "Midnight Train to Georgia" – with a little help from Mike and Artie as the Pips.

Then Sam totally nailed "(Sittin' on) the Dock of the Bay."

And Rachel couldn't help but beam when Santana's interpretation of Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" (a song she'd personally suggested to her very newest friend, and put forth some back up vocals for) left many of their gleemates utterly speechless.

But Noah surprised her when he stood as the accolades for Santana wound down, putting himself in the running with something he'd prepared entirely in secret.

She watched, stunned that he'd chosen, and managed, to keep this from her, as he sat on a stool in the center of the room, his guitar resting across the tops of his legs, a thoughtful set to his jaw. Once he began to sing she felt a brief weightlessness in her head and chest, then caught herself shifting with not-necessarily-discomfort every time his eyes locked on her.

"_And I'd give up forever to touch you,_

'_Cause I know that you feel me somehow._

_You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,_

_And I don't want to go home right now."_

"Iris" really was a beautiful song, and he was doing an amazing job with it…even if she had the distinct memory of him once calling the Goo Goo Dolls "sissy faux-rock pop shit."

"_I don't want the world to see me,_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand._

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am."_

Noah always had managed to show a different side of himself, the more vulnerable side perhaps, when performing. It's why it was always such an effective way for him to woo women. But she couldn't help but notice how something about this particular song was even more revealing, the sincerity he pushed out with the chorus resonating as both sad and beautiful.

"_And I don't want the world to see me,_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand._

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am."_

He finished to enthusiastic applause, and while Rachel was pretty sure she was still pulling for Mercedes to get this particular spot, she wouldn't be concerned about their chances if it went to Noah instead. Especially since the barely perceptible blush he was wearing now did _nothing_ to lessen his attractiveness.

Something she acknowledged strictly for competitive advantage, of course.

Once Puck was settled back in his seat at her side, Rachel saw their teacher step forward as if to bring rehearsal to a close when Finn's voice came, almost hesitantly at first, from the back row.

"I, uh, I've prepared something too, Mr. Schue. If that's okay?"

While Finn was widely considered the male lead of the club, it was still relatively uncommon for him to actively pursue a solo or volunteer for anything. Rachel knew he silently _expected _to be given a verse in group numbers, to have dibs on duets, but he'd never had the same attitude that she did, that Mercedes or Santana did, that Kurt had, when it came to _asking_ _for_ (demanding) a turn in the solitary spotlight.

But despite his visible surprise at Finn's question, Rachel could see that Mr. Schue liked the change in routine.

"Sure thing, Finn. Show us what you got."

Being as they were moving towards being friends again, albeit a little slower and more awkwardly than she'd like at times, she tried to meet his eyes and offer him a smile of encouragement as he moved to the center of their performance space.

She thought it was odd when he seemed to be forcing his gaze everywhere but at her.

He nodded to the band to start, and his eyes finally fell on her at the exact moment she recognized the song.

Her stomach plummeted, in dread and something else she was unwilling to name.

His stare was now focused so intently on her, and his eyes darkened with something she found both indescribable and intoxicating, as he parted his lips to sing.

"_It's looking like a limb torn off_

_Or altogether just taken apart._

_We're reeling through an endless fall._

_We are the ever-living ghost of what once was._

_But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do._

_No one's gonna love you more than I do."_

She tried to pretend there was nothing in his song choice, not some not-really-hidden message at all, let alone one for her specifically.

She _tried…_ but the efforts were pointless.

This was for her and she (and maybe even everyone else, too) knew it.

He'd sang like this to her, _at_ her, once before. Back when she was with Jesse. When he was trying to prove himself to her. And, just like then, she now felt the heat of embarrassment spreading across the back of her neck, up her arms, blossoming on her cheeks, at his unwavering attention.

She also felt the tingle, the delicious chills, all the familiar signs that she was in danger of letting everything but Finn disappear from her sight, from her thoughts, from the world, if only for a moment.

There was enough of her resisting that kind of oblivion though to wonder what he thought he was doing?

She felt things complicating further with each word.

"_Anything to make you smile,_

_It is a better side of you to admire."_

She tried to focus on something _other_ than how earnest he looked as he sang, or how handsome.

She tried to ignore her own lightheadedness.

She turned her head slightly towards Mercedes hoping for a little diversion, but her friend just shot a look back with a single quirked, questioning brow.

Rachel looked quickly away…she had no answers.

She then twisted her neck just a little to glance at Noah on her other side, but his furious glowering at Finn had her facing front again.

She suddenly felt the need to ignore what _his_ reaction meant as well.

"_But someone,  
They could have warned you.  
When things start splitting at the seams and now,  
The whole thing's tumbling down.  
Things start splitting at the seams and now…  
If things start splitting at the seams and now…  
It's tumbling down.  
Hard."_

He sounded good, better than good, but she put her mental energy into critiquing every note to keep from reveling in the words and subtext.

And it worked well enough as he made it through the last chorus, but, still, when he and the band fell silent she breathed a subtle sigh of relief.

"Nicely done, Finn. Very good." Mr. Schuester clapped his hand on Finn's back, finally breaking the spell and her ex-boyfriend's penetrating stare. "I've certainly got my work cut out for me, but I believe I should be able to let you all know by next rehearsal who will be the show-stopping soloist at Regionals. I'll see everyone then."

Mr. Schue headed towards his office, and despite feeling every single remaining set of eyes on her, the new price of having friends who cared, Rachel ducked her head a little as she quickly slipped her folder into her bag and headed towards the door.

She didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure what she wanted to hear, from _him_, from any of them, so she fled.

She'd made it only the distance to her locker before someone caught up, and while she knew he had probably rushed a little to catch her, his voice was lazy and nonchalant when he spoke.

"Just so we're clear, anyone other than 'Cedes beats me, and I'm gonna pull a you and storm the fuck out of there. I don't care if you _did_ help Evans and San give their best performances ever just now."

She saw right through him, of course. The way he was intentionally goading her, not enough to get her really mad but enough to get a response. The way he was talking right around that last song.

She knew precisely what he was trying to do, but rather than call him out on it she decided to let him, turning to face him with a stern expression.

"You most certainly will not, Noah Puckerman. You _will_ congratulate _whomever_ Mr. Schuester chooses, politely and sincerely, because while I cannot deny that you did give an outstanding performance, you are not the only one who'd be deserving of this selection. Santana and Sam, as well as Mercedes of course, were all remarkable in there…and I'm not even being biased because of the assistance I provided."

"Whatever. I'm the biggest stud we got, and if any of those judges be female…" He waggled his eyebrows. "I'm the only one, shall we say "equipped," to handle them."

She shoved against his arm, huffing in disgust and shaking her head, as she closed her locker and began walking towards the parking lot, him in tow.

Their banter continued the entire way to her car, jumping topics from his new competitiveness in glee to how she would NOT write his history essay for him, and then to their oft-revisited debate on the ending of LOST, and by the time they reached her parking space, just a few down from his truck, she had almost completely shaken the anxiousness Finn's song had planted in her chest. But when Noah paused before continuing to his own vehicle, face suddenly serious, and just looked at her, the internal gnawing was suddenly back tenfold.

"It's not true, you know."

She was confused by his words, but given his peculiar expression, she wasn't certain she wanted him to clarify.

He tried to anyway.

"I know you, and even if you aren't showing it, inside part of you is goin' apeshit over getting serenaded in there. Even if another part of you is totally uncomfortable with the publicness of his lame-ass display."

He licked his lips and rolled his eyes before shifting his gaze to somewhere over her shoulder. "But don't, like, take it literally, okay?"

She watched his eyes flicker briefly to her face and she must have looked as puzzled as she felt because he sighed with frustration and continued. "You still want him, I get it. And if that's the only reason you get messed up over that song, so be it. But don't buy into the "no one else'll love you more" shit for a second. 'Cause he doesn't know that,_ can't_ know that. And it isn't true."

She was too stunned to respond, too much a coward to ask how _he_ knew that it wasn't.

He sniffed at the air and suddenly his seriousness was gone. He looked right at her again and other than a barely noticeable gleam in the green of his eyes, he looked as he always did…disinterested and smug. "I gotta go pick up my sister, but I'll call you later? I need you to explain to me my thoughts on _Great Expectations_."

She watched him turn without an answer and jog to his truck, peeling out of the parking lot with a last acknowledging head nod, and disappearing from her sight.

!

"Not gonna lie to you, B, you could use a little help up top."

"Santana!"

She fought the urge to both roll her eyes and smirk in slight amusement at the sound of Rachel gasping her name indignantly. They may be friends or whatever nowadays, but pissin' the near-midget off was still a good time. She just had limits now.

Damn Brittany for convincing her to actually give the pint-sized primadonna a chance.

"What? Like you don't know your own bra size? This ain't news, Berry. You're flat."

"Santana Lopez, while I may not be as generously endowed as some girls are, whether due to nature or their father's money," the shorter girl paused to purse her lips pointedly and Santana was almost proud of her runty companion for the dig. "I most certainly am not _flat_. Given my height, my chest is actually quite proportionate, thank you very much. Not that it is _any_ of your business."

The eye roll was unavoidable this time. "Oh, calm down, Loca. I'm just saying, you hope to look your absolute best for this presentation thing? You may want to invest in a bit of padding. Nothing skanky, just enough to come off more like an almost-adult and less like a ridiculously over-literate six year old. You wanted my input on what to wear, this is it: buy yourself a big girl bra, and a suit that does not look like it walked off the set of the Mary Tyler Moore Show."

Rachel had the look of intended protest but Santana swiftly cut her off. "It's a bright blue pant suit with a ginormous collar. It hasn't been in style in our lifetime. Let it go."

"Fine." Rachel crossed her arms across her chest in a huff and Santana just laughed at her before stepping away from the shorter girl's insanely hyper-organized closet and plopping lazily down on the bed.

Bored with Rachel's wardrobe, she hoped to move on to gossip. "So…what's going on with you and Puckerman?"

"What? Nothing."

Santana took a mental note of Rachel's visible frustration at her own flustered tone before prodding further.

"Whatever. He's into you. If nothing really is going on, it certainly ain't for his lack of trying."

At that Rachel's expression did look honestly clueless. "What are you talking about? Noah hasn't _tried_ anything. We're friends, very good friends."

Snorting indelicately, Santana shifted to lay down on her belly, picking the latest issue of Cosmo (which had Tina's name on the address label to her surprise) from the nightstand to start leafing through.

"No, Puck _and I_ are good friends, especially when no one else is around. I'm not saying he's not capable of being a nice-ish guy or whatever, but…he's never treated me the way he treats you. Wasn't nearly as nice to Quinn, neither. And you can pretend if you got to, but I know you know that means something."

Santana hadn't looked up from her inspection of the latest spring trends, but when the rapid fire denial she was anticipating didn't come, she finally returned her eyes to the other girl, surprised to see a look of almost-fear on Rachel's face, her bottom lip pulled worriedly between her teeth.

When their brown eyes locked, Santana felt an unfamiliar sensation, perhaps sympathy, at the clouded gaze she found.

Rachel's voice was soft. "It _can't _mean anything. I can't_ let _it mean anything."

"Why not?" She asked it like it was so simple, even though she knew it was not.

"Because…well, because of a lot of things."

Santana thought Rachel Berry was fully delusional if the girl thought for a second she had any intention of accepting that as an answer. "Like…"

For once the large dramatic sigh out of the tiny girl seemed somewhat warranted, as this conversation looked like something she'd been steadily avoiding for a long while.

"Well…Finn's an obvious one. Just because we aren't dating doesn't mean there's not…something there. I've been living without him, I've learned to _enjoy_ living without him, but I do _love_ him. And something more with Noah would undoubtedly ruin forever all hope for another chance. But, it's also...while I loved Finn, and though Finn loved me, we hurt eachother so much. We love eachother still, and yet _lost_ eachother somehow."

Santana saw the glassy sheen take over Rachel's eyes but was too wrapped up in what the girl was saying to feel her typical discomfort at the threat of tears.

"And I, I did care very much for Jesse once upon a time, but as you well know that relationship had a spectacularly awful ending. I've seen that romance, while alluring, is far less likely to result in 'happily ever after' than I'd previously hoped. But friendship..." Rachel gave a small smile. "I've survived having my heart broken, several times in fact, and here I am now, the best version of myself I've ever been. And I've found something in Noah these last few months that's changed me; he's unknowingly, unintentionally, helped me become this person," she indicated herself with an arm flourish, "and I can't imagine being me anymore _without_ him. I _can't _risk losing him. So, honestly, it's partly that I'm not ready to let go of the thought of me and Finn, and it's also that I don't even know what all I could actually feel for Noah, anyway. But more than anything, it's that he's someone who I can't stand the thought of losing, and I won't take any chances."

Rachel fell silent, eyes bright, begging to be understood, and Santana just held that gaze a moment, face unchanged.

"Really, do you_ have_ to say _everything_ like it's a freakin' Broadway audition? So dramatic."

She shook her head in mock disapproval before a tiny lift at the corner of her lips gave her away and Rachel giggled, slightly, before replying.

"I'm sorry, I do tend to have a theatric flare when I talk, but that doesn't mean my words aren't sincere. It's true, what I just said. All of it."

"I know, B. I know. And I get it. But...I do think you're going to break his heart." Santana sighed as she sat up, her face softening with a rare look of both understanding and regret. "So, if you have to, just try to do it gently."

Santana was relieved when Rachel, after ghosting a nod and brushing back tears, changed the subject back to something less uncomfortable to talk about.

"So, how much padding were you thinking?" Rachel glanced down at her chest with a frown as Santana let out a loud laugh.

!

Quinn stood, bored out of her mind, at the front of the Cheerios' formation. She currently kept her posture perfect and her face attractively blank, but if Principal Figgins didn't shut up about the (vastly exaggerated) glories of William McKinley's athletic program soon, she was probably going to snap.

The Spring Sports Spirit Night was traditionally the least interesting of all the athletic seasons' kick-off events. No one cared nearly as much about baseball as they did football, or even basketball (which was a shame considering the baseball team had, by far, the best overall record for the last five years), but this year's attendance was especially pathetic and the level of interest rather grim. Sam and Mike weren't even there (they'd chosen, together, to play tennis this year and Figgins was too cheap to bump the gathering to a night when their team didn't have a match, refusing to cancel on one of the organizations currently scheduled to rent out the facilities), and while she understood Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes' time was all better spent working on the just-around-the-corner-now school board presentation, she was still not used to doing much without them anymore. Yes, she was entirely self-possessed and just fine on her own, always had been; that didn't mean she didn't _prefer_ having her recently crazy-tight unit of support around.

Finally, Figgins finished his _painfully_ long speech (ass-kissing plea for more booster and alumni donations), and she led her squad out, oozing manufactured pep and enthusiasm, completely confident as the music started that she would nail every kick, jump, and turn. After all, she was Quinn Fabray, and if she was going to be stuck at this thing she was certainly going to kill it.

After a few minutes of rigorous dancing and gymnastics, and managing it all without appearing to have broken a sweat or even increased her heart rate in the slightest, she jogged the other girls into the hallway where they were to wait for their next cue, after the introduction of all the (present) spring sports' teams.

Boys and Girls Track and Field were up first.

She listened a moment as the girls' coach rambled off a little prologue, before scanning the hall's occupants for someone interesting. Brit shot her a smile from where she was talking with Santana and a few other Cheerios, and Quinn returned it but felt no pull to join in at present. Looking passed her own cheermates to where the lacrosse team was lounging against some lockers, she couldn't help but notice the definite line drawn between them and the golf guys a little further down, and then another line separating the baseball team beyond that.

And, the softball team was practically all the way at the other end of the school.

She'd known from day one (and often rejoiced in and exploited this fact) that McKinley was a divisive wasteland of teenagers, a teen movie cliché of cliques and groups and stereotypes. There weren't just jocks and losers; it was more intricate than that. There were Cheerios and the A-level jocks (Football, Basketball, Baseball), then a B-level of jocks (Soccer, Varsity Hockey, Lacrosse, Volleyball, Cross Country, and Track), and another level down for the rest of the athletes who were essentially tied in the hierarchy with the rich kids who didn't play sports, a few attractive girls who didn't care about being called "easy", and the trio of guys in a garage band (which was apparently the only acceptable musical outlet by the social food chain's standards). Below them there were varying degrees of being ignored, or of being treated so poorly you wished you were.

But this? Lately? Was a whole new underworld of division.

And it was clearly a result of what her possible-best-friend was doing.

Since Rachel'd gone public, full out in her efforts, things had been changing. Seeing a few kids who'd been constantly picked on trying to stand up for themselves, inspired more to join the ranks. Kids who'd always disapproved of the accepted cruelty towards others, but had been silenced by their fear of getting pulled into the treachery, stopped just accepting things quietly.

But no policies had changed yet (they might not change at all) and the alpha males and females had become more vicious than ever in response.

The cloistered groupings and eerie silence she was witnessing now was the result. Even groups so close together on the scale of things couldn't risk making waves, couldn't chance the explosion if things went too far. Especially not while stuck in this hallway, with the principal, and their coaches and parents, sitting just on the other side of the door.

Since the start, Quinn had found herself mostly invested in this entire campaign for Rachel's sake, but absorbing the tension she suddenly feared what life would be like if her friend's efforts were all in vain.

And so, in the instant of that revelation, when a familiar voice rose to a threatening growl not too far away, followed by the sound of a body slamming into a locker, it nearly gave her a heart attack.

Quickly her eyes found matching alarm in Santana's, and both moved swiftly, Brittany just a step behind, towards the noise, coming from the branch of the hallway just behind the baseball team.

Just as they turned the corner Puck was pushing Finn's hands from his chest and she didn't catch the complete sentence, but what she heard was littered with furious profanity. She'd roll her eyes at his predictability if she wasn't so set on putting an end to whatever the hell the two morons were doing. Immediately.

"...and then you won't have a choice but to back the hell up, Puck."

She shook her head as she stopped within a few feet of her two ex-boyfriends, Brittany on one side and Santana on the other, all three with arms crossed tightly in front of them, as she took in the end of Finn's returning threat. He had more fire to him than he often let on, but she knew better than most that he was still a giant teddy bear, and if he thought for a second he could physically take on Noah Puckerman than she had to feel a little sorry for him. It was actually one of Finn's best qualities, that he was truly a lover and not a fighter, but she didn't suppose that was a comforting thought for an angry 17-year-old boy.

Deciding she didn't care to find out what had actually started this little altercation (and assuming she probably already knew), she cut Puck off before he had a chance to shoot something obscene and offensive back at his former best friend.

She barely raised her voice above her normal tone, but the sheer surprise of it must have helped gain their attention because each one turned to look at her abruptly at her first word.

"You two are utterly pathetic."

Puck rolled his eyes, and his voice still was tense with anger as he tried to warn her, "Q…"

"Shut it, Puckerman."

She flashed Santana a smile. It'd been a while since they'd teamed up like this, and while she knew they'd never really been the best friends they had claimed to be, it was nice to be on the same side again. Especially now that it was for nobler purposes.

"I'm serious. Both of you? Completely useless."

Finn tried to interrupt her now, though with a more apologetic tone than Puck's had been. Still, she brushed passed it just as easily, though her voice was lower now to keep from reaching all those ears in the main hall behind them.

"Maybe you two haven't noticed, but this place is about to erupt. And we all know our favorite little loud-mouth is the catalyst. She's got the board meeting in less than a week, and every single kid in this school has something riding on it, one way or the other." Her eyes moved back and forth between them carefully, instructing them with her gaze to actually listen to what she really shouldn't have to be explaining to them. "The long-tormented are starting to rise up, and the bullies are dishing out everything they can think of to push them back down again. All the invisible kids in the middle are finally starting to have to take sides, and things are awful with everyone on edge. If it all blows before that meeting, or if, God-forbid, the campaign fails, it is going to be a disaster, a guaranteed bloodbath. And no one will suffer for it more than_ she_ will. She knows this, but somehow still has to keep her cool and prepare to give one hell of a presentation next Tuesday. Neither of you are really the brightest, but I hope you can see that she's probably under a lot of stress right now."

Finn nodded. Puck just kept staring at her, yet she knew for him that meant the same thing as agreement.

"You're both in love with her." She expected some sort of reaction for being the only person to ever say it out loud, and in front of both of them too, but when none came she just pushed on. "It's not the first time you've found yourself into the same girl, but I pray to God it's the last. But, regardless, for once, can you do something productive with it? Namely, using what little cache the two of you still have at this school to try and keep a little peace? Fighting eachother is not going to give either of you points in her book, and it could do her a lot of harm if it's the spark that ruins this whole thing."

She looked to Santana and then to Brittany, checking to see if they had anything to add, but both just gave a nod of approval. Her eyes returned to the boys, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts at her words.

Good.

She just really hoped their thoughts were less stupid than usual.

!

"Deep breaths, Diva-girl, deep breaths."

Kurt watched, silenced by astonishment, as Rachel Berry fell into a nervous wreck of scared, emotional pieces before his very eyes, while Mercedes tried desperately to get their usually overly-confident-and-together friend to calm down.

There were literally 35 people waiting in the girl's living room (and overflowing into the hall and dining room)…so he hoped whatever Mercedes was rambling on about was working.

Rachel had been fine when he first arrived to help her prepare for the pre-board-meeting volunteers' gathering she was hosting, but then out of nowhere, as the doorbell rang and rang, she'd started to cry a little, tears welling up in her large, dark eyes, as she began rambling nonsense. Worrying that this wouldn't work. Whining that people _hated_ her, so why did she think she'd be a suitable mouthpiece for something so important. Wondering how long she had before all her efforts just fell apart.

Kurt couldn't process this kind of performance anxiety on Rachel Berry. It just didn't fit.

"Usually, I'm someone else on stage," she tried to explain. "I can hand myself over, fearlessly, because it's not me that they'll love or hate or judge…it's my character. It's the speaker of the song. But this? This is all me. And 90% of the people in that room probably hate me already. This is just going to make it worse!"

He hid his snort when Mercedes snapped her fingers in front of Rachel's blurring eyes to focus the girl.

"Rach, rein in that crazy. You _got_ this. Those people are here because they believe in what you're doin', and because they believe in you. But, if it makes you feel safer, Puck _did _do a slushie-check at the door. Everyone out there is on _your_ side. They are all ready to take this thing to the finish. But they need one last pep talk…so get your bossy little booty out there, now, and give 'em one!"

Kurt saw Mercedes nodding encouragingly as Rachel's face transformed from one of panic (that looked so out of place on her features) to one of constructed poise, and then fierce (and familiar) determination.

The shorter girl gave a firm nod herself, a thank you of sorts, and then took one last deep breath before spinning on her heel and marching out of the kitchen.

Sharing a look of relief, Kurt linked arms with his sassy best friend before they both followed behind her.

Leaning against the frame of the entryway, he took in the sight of the crowd. He recognized several faces, of course. Many gleeks were there, naturally, and some of the other kids were people he'd known from AP classes and his short-lived, ill-fated attempt at joining the marching band as a freshman. A few more he'd seen around but didn't know their names or anything about them.

And Jacob Ben Israel was there, too, of course. Sitting front and center, staring at Rachel like she was heaven.

(Kurt had seen the expression on Finn's (and Puck's) face enough to be mostly immune to the gag-worthy gaze. But on this kid it was just all sorts of a new kind of creepy.)

Still, he couldn't waste thoughts on the disaster that was Jacob now, as his other best friend was about to begin her spiel.

"Firstly, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for coming this evening…and for everything you've contributed in the last few weeks. When I first approached Ms. Pillsbury, excuse me, Ms. Pillsbury-Howell, about wanting a no-tolerance anti-bullying policy at William McKinley, I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. Now, months later, it's been a much larger undertaking than I could have ever imagined….but, thankfully, I have had so much more help than I could have ever dreamed. And the reason I feel so confidently, here in the home stretch, is because of the work, the time, that you've all put in. And I'm just really so grateful that I'm not going down this road alone."

Kurt watched her slip on one of the rare, almost-shy small Rachel Berry smiles and marveled at how this girl, when she had a captive audience, really knew how to reel 'em in.

"As the preparation period ends, and the night itself approaches, I thought it only fair to share with you, who've put in the most blood, sweat, and tears, the results. Artie's going to do a screening of the video. It'll take approximately 12 minutes of the actual board presentation, but a longer "Director's Cut" version will be included with every board member's packet. That's the edition you'll be seeing tonight. Also included in that packet is the document you were handed upon arrival this evening. It's the participation stats, and a select gathering of text examples, from the message board. For the presentation, I will point out some of the most impactful facts and quotes from it, after showing the video. The conclusion will then be left to citing the examples we have of other schools with these policies in place, and showing how we measure up. Not only in terms of student satisfaction, comfort, or safety, but also academically and athletically, etc. To be truthful, the schools that have adopted this type of philosophy out-perform McKinley, statistically speaking, on near every front. It seems only natural to me to consider that their accommodating atmospheres may be part of the reason why."

Kurt saw a few kids nodding to each other, some people reading through their packets, but not a single person was distracted from the mission. Every single one was absorbing her every word.

He was proud of her. Proud of everyone sitting in the room now, and everyone else who'd helped her in recent weeks.

He was profoundly touched, too, because he knew, to some extent, she'd started all this for him. And no matter what happened as a result, it felt amazing to have the kind of friend who cared like that.

He'd have never guessed just a few months ago that he'd have found that great of a friend in Rachel Berry, but he felt extremely lucky that he had.

"Okay, I'm about to shut up, I promise…hush, Noah," she paused with a tiny grin for the light chuckles Puck's snort of disbelief received. Her voice was serious though when she continued,"…and then we'll let the video play, and the food should be here soon. But I do want to emphasize to you all that to back up our points on paper, our points on film, presence at this meeting is key. No matter how many voices are represented online or on that tape, _none_ will be heard if I'm in there that night, standing alone. Please, please, please, try to make it. And ask any one, _every_ one else you know to join you. Thank you again."

Kurt led the applause that quickly thundered through the room. Rachel stepped over towards where he and Mercedes were standing and he pulled her into his side in a one-armed hug as Puck hit the light switch across the room, and Artie pressed play.

Kurt had seen the final cut already; he'd even helped Artie a little with final edits and some soundtrack suggestions. The resulting documentary, he thought, was often raw and depressing, but somehow also beautiful on occasion.

It sucked being reminded of how some suffered.

It was amazing, though, to be reminded as well of how strong people, kids really, could be.

He took in the faces of everyone watching for the first time. Some who were in the room now also took a turn on screen, and when their clips came many averted their eyes a little.

There was wincing at some of the more physical instances retold. Like the kid with the severe peanut allergy who'd had to leave school in an ambulance after a spiteful run-in with the third basemen last spring. Or the girl who'd broken her leg when she'd been dropped, on purpose, during Cheerio try-outs.

The general McKinley hallway footage pulled out a gasp or two, and lots of cringing, as it showed a few kids getting pushed into lockers and down stairs, the audio littered with racial slurs, sexual harassment, homophobic insults.

When the shot came on of Karofsky grabbing Rachel by the arm as she'd tried to walk by him into a classroom, growling that she better watch her back when things righted themselves and the school got its sanity back, Kurt looked to Puck as the other boy angrily muttered, "Fuckin' bastard."

Kurt felt Rachel lean more into his side and the reminder of how tiny she was, while knowing first hand of Karofsky's physical force, he couldn't say he disagreed with Noah Puckerman at all.

With still a few minutes to go there was a knock on the door and he helped Rachel carry the pizza boxes the back way into the Berry kitchen and set out the plates and napkins and open the coolers.

When the film ended he noted the heavy silence, and pushed Rachel towards the living room again as he set the pizzas into order by topping.

He heard her clear her throat from the other room, and was again struck with pride.

"As you can see, this isn't a petty effort. It's not about students wanting to be cooler or more popular, or wanting vengeance on the people who are. It's about students wanting to be _safe_. Wanting to be able to merely be themselves, without fear of torment or attack. This _is_ a big deal. And it's something we, as students, really shouldn't have to be the ones to address, but since we obviously are…we will. And we _will _make them listen. Thanks again, for everything. And, if you want a bite to eat, the pizzas are in the kitchen. There are beverages on the counter. Please help yourselves."

Kurt stepped away from the table as the students started to make their way into the kitchen, but no so far that he couldn't hear the first guy in remark to the girl at his side, "She's kind of intense. But, in like the coolest way."

Yeah, Kurt thought so too.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the delay in this chapter, and if I have lost all readers because of it, I understand. This was a bear to write, and to be honest, I'm reluctant to even post this. But I've written and re-written all the pieces so many times that I'm afraid I'm just going to have to admit defeat and move on. (I have some scenes from chapters farther out already written and am so DESPERATE to get the story there.) At any rate, if you are reading, please review. Hearing of any remaining interest will hopefully help me get the next installment out much much much faster.

Also, hope you don't think this sucks.

Thanks for visiting, now on with the show… (which, I do not own the characters of, blah blah blah.)

!

Rachel took a slow, steadying breath.

She inspected her reflection, as carefully as possible in a rear-view mirror, and believed she looked as good as she was going to.

She could hear Noah's voice in her head, offering a simple yet oddly profound utterance of, "Bring it, Berry," as she slipped out of her car and began walking towards the school, with purpose and conviction hastening her every step. She tried not to notice the quickly filling parking lot, as this was definitely not the time to start being intimidated by crowds.

No, this was the time to start making things happen, to put her innate star power and surplus of self-confidence to good use. She lifted her chin just a little higher as she reminded herself of all that.

Typically, the school board met in one of the larger classrooms, but the buzz around her presentation and proposal had escalated to the point that the auditorium was being used tonight instead to accommodate the expected dramatic increase in attendance. Artie and a few of the AV kids had been in there since school was dismissed for the day, securing all connections for the projector screen and the sound system. Testing and re-testing to be sure things went off without a hitch. Mercedes had been hard at work too, making calls and sending texts since 4th period, all to be sure every possibly-attending student she could think of knew where to show up and when.

Even Jacob Ben Israel, who had been blogging a countdown to the meeting for the last week, had been contributing, posting a new updated video informing of the location change and urging people to show up...if for no other reason than mere curiosity.

Rachel appreciated that people had been putting in so much time and effort, still were, right to the last possible moment. But she'd decided, quietly, to take the afternoon off so to speak, and she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty or regret it.

She'd left school quickly after classes let out, gone home and retired to her room, taking the time to be alone...for the first time in months, it seemed. She'd needed to relax a little, to reflect some, to prepare for the last stage of this steadily intensifying endeavor she'd somehow stirred up and rooted herself so deeply into.

And it had really been mind-expanding in a way, all the things she considered in the quiet hours of the waning afternoon.

She'd started out by sitting at her desk and pulling up her MySpace page. A series of motions, a simple action, that had once been so frequent and familiar it had often felt like autopilot.

But not this time. She hadn't posted a video in months, the last one dated from mid-July.

She had scrolled passed that one (a variation of "Some Enchanted Evening" from _South Pacific_, put up just after an amazing date with Finn) on through to those from before she'd fallen in love with the tall quarterback, from before glee had become_ glee _even_, _and then carefully re-read each of the comments her peers had left, every insult and put-down. She could recognize some of the handles now, and had easily picked out which ones were Santana's or Quinn's, but rather than feel a resurgence of the bitterness, or even the hurt, their words had once brought about, she'd merely felt grateful.

That wasn't her life anymore. That was not even _who_ they all were anymore.

And if that thought wasn't a reminder of how much better things _could _be, with just a little effort, she didn't know what was.

She'd turned then in her chair and caught sight of her dresser, where the mirror's frame was currently littered with tucked-in photographs. Once upon a time, not long ago at all actually, she'd had not a single photo to place there, had not a single friend to take photos with.

This afternoon though, there'd been much evidence of the opposite.

A strip from the photo booth at the mall of her with Mercedes, Quinn, and Tina all crammed in the narrow space, imitating "model" poses (sucked in cheeks, pursed lips, over-the-shoulder glances). Then beside it a strip of just Kurt, showing them how it was really done.

The shots her fathers took before the Valentine's dance.

A picture of her and Brittany from a random afternoon rehearsal, tangoing with their hands clasped and pointed towards the camera, cheeks pressed together, smiles wide.

Quinn's photo of Noah, dismayed and covered in water, from the poker game a few weeks back, with Rachel at his side, obviously proud and amused.

One Tina had taken of Santana with Rachel, Lauren, and Mercedes leaning over her, drawing with lipsticks on her face, after the girl'd fallen asleep on the Berry couch one night during a movie.

The image of herself, tucked in a hammock-like blanket, being lifted and swung between Mike and Sam.

Tina with Mike in the Berry kitchen, both laughing at something Rachel couldn't remember. Quinn and Mercedes and Kurt posing as Charlie's Angels in the cinema parking lot. Sam and Artie practicing their "gangsta" expressions in the auditorium, with Mercedes caught rolling her eyes at the sight. Brit giving Santana a piggyback ride around Rachel's front lawn. Lauren and Noah in a staring contest, foreheads practically touching, during lunch in the McKinley cafeteria.

And then she'd stared at the most recent addition, a group shot from their bowling adventure. She'd had to stand way back to get them all in, but the photo was incredibly telling. Brit sat upon Artie's lap, one arm around her boyfriend's neck while the other curled around Santana's waist. San was fake glaring at Puck who stood smirking on her other side, with Lauren resting her hand on his shoulder, obviously laughing hysterically at whatever'd been said between the two former lovers. Mike stood close beside the tall girl, hamming up his smile, his arm wrapped tightly around Tina, who's own arm was linked with Quinn's, as the pretty blonde hugged her other arm around Mercedes, all of the girls' eyes gleaming with amusement, cheeks flushed. Kurt's expression was caught looking over in comical disgust at Finn and Sam who were both sitting backwards in their chairs, each trying (unsuccessfully) to sneak overflowing forkfuls of loaded nachos, layered heavily in meat and cheese and sour cream, into their mouths quickly before the snapshot was taken.

Rachel'd taken a long time looking at that one photo, considering each face carefully. She'd tried to remember them each as they used to be, _before_.

Some, herself included, so isolated, tormented and lonely.

Some, stuck playing parts that were nothing like their true selves.

All of them just…missing out.

They were so much happier now…all of them. And while it was partly due to their own efforts (in her case very obviously, but even in general, the tight friendships they'd formed of late had only been possible because they had all decided to meet each other halfway), had Mr. Schue not roped Finn into joining the club to start with, and then fostered an environment that kept some peace between them all as they struggled with their differences for the first year, what they enjoyed together now would not have been achievable.

So, why not choose to apply that same philosophy across the board?

Yes, it'd be ridiculously unrealistic to think an entire high school's worth of teenagers could end up best friends. But it wasn't absurd to hope for the possibility of something better than a warzone, was it?

She'd freshened up then, and gotten dressed while going over her presentation in her head, all the while reminding herself that she could do this. Because the school needed it, because they all deserved it.

She could do this because she was Rachel Berry and that meant she was strong.

She could do this because she wasn't alone anymore.

And on that note, after an afternoon of contemplation, she'd locked up the house and made her way back to the school, as ready as she was going to be, humming the entire drive to ease her nerves.

Now that she'd made her way through the familiar halls and was standing backstage in the auditorium, watching the seats fill up and half-listening to the growing din of chatter, she felt, she'd dare to call it, near-invincible.

She saw her dads make their way in, suit-clad and straight from the office, and grab seats as close to the front off of stage left as they could find. She saw Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury-Howell join them a second later, Burt and Carole Hummel waving to them from a few rows back.

She saw students, so many students, many of whose names she did not know, take empty seats where they could but also fill in the space by leaning against walls, standing in the back and in the side aisles.

And she could feel their support, every one of them, and it made her feel sure of her voice, secure in her message.

But then she felt moisture at the corners of her eyes, as her breath was stolen away, at the sight of the glee club (and Kurt) as they entered. All together, walking, and one rolling, heads lifted proudly, as they marched to the "reserved" seating in the first row at stage right (Artie'd posted the signs on the seats himself).

Each one clad in a t-shirt with bold, black text across the chest: "Team Rachel."

And suddenly,_ totally_ invincible was exactly what she was feeling.

!

Lauren Zizes had never had _a lot_ of friends by any means, but she'd never been bothered much by that fact. She had _enough_, she thought, and she was a loner by nature anyway.

But, since finding Noah Puckerman in an overturned port-a-potty almost five months ago, she'd discovered that there was much more to her already fascinating and complex personality than even she'd been aware of.

Apparently, she liked singing. And dancing.

And bowling, of all things.

And she really liked having a lot of friends…if the "lot" consisted of the eleven people surrounding her at this very moment. Plus the tiny brunette who she knew was presently waiting backstage.

She knew it was just about time for the meeting to start, as Figgins was inching his way towards the stairs to the stage, schmoozing with the last few potential donors before getting this show on the road. Stealing a glance down the row, she noted the expressions of her now beloved motley crew.

Beside her the Cheerios' postures were perfect; backs and necks long and erect, chins lifted proudly, eyes cool and superior. Their pretty poise had proven itself time and again as their best offense, and best defense, when it came to social battles. Before joining the club, and for a little while even after, she'd regarded these three girls with significant doses of disdain, writing them off as bitchy, vapid, vacant of true value. Despite what others may have thought, she'd never, not even for a second, been jealous of their undeniable beauty. But she had envied the free pass they'd always been given because of it, the privilege of doing and saying whatever they pleased. Lauren had always spoken her own mind of course, but it hadn't always been well received. And she'd hated how easy the popular girls had it, how Santana Lopez could always run her mouth without risk of reprimand, because of her slender frame and long, shiny hair. Now that Lauren knew them, however, liked them and considered them friends, she saw how incomplete her understanding of them had been. And while she still found fault with a hierarchy that rewarded a perky ponytail and clear skin with high school's equivalent of diplomatic immunity, she no longer was willing to dismiss her peers as unworthy of her time merely because they were popular.

Next down, Kurt, Mercedes, and Tina each looked nervous but eager. Beyond them, Mike and Sam were glancing around, stoically observing the crowd.

At the end of their aisle, an odd picture seated together publicly for the first time in months, neither Puck nor Finn's eyes strayed from the side of the stage where they all knew Rachel was waiting for her introduction.

Artie, chair stationed beside Finn, had what could best be described as his battle face on.

Suddenly, the perpetually nervous sound of their principal's voice brought the auditorium's murmurings to an end and Lauren noted Figgins himself seemed to wince at his volume, but he still swiftly began to ramble through his opening.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the school board, assembled parents, teachers, students, and friends, I'd like to now call this meeting to order. Due to the unusual nature of our first item of business, I'd like to defer the reading of the minutes from the last meeting until April. In the meantime, an electronic copy is viewable from the school's website for any concerned party. Comments or questions can be directed to the school board secretary, Mrs. Lynn Thauser, e-mail address available on the site."

Lauren tried not to yawn overtly at the tediousness of Figgins' voice, but couldn't help but notice how small he looked on stage, even from the first row. He was a nice enough principal, she guessed, even if largely ineffectual, but was seriously lacking in the 'charisma and presence' department.

At that thought, her mind wandered back to Rachel. The only time she _didn't_ think the girl looked ridiculously tiny was when she was up on a stage. Berry certainly had presence, if nothing else, and as Figgins wrapped up his comments, it was about to be put on display for a packed house.

"Now, I would ask that we move to our first agenda point: A proposal for the institution of an Anti-Bullying Policy, to be presented by junior student, Rachel Berry."

Figgins stepped to the side and rigidly lifted his arm to indicate Rachel, as his mechanical head nod invited her on stage. There was a moment of unnatural quiet before an uproar of student applause broke out as their petite champion became visible and walked deliberately, with impeccable posture, toward the microphone.

(Lauren was pretty sure Puck had actually started the clapping, and had given a deafening whistle once it caught on. Not willing to be outdone, she'd echoed that with a powerful shriek of "Wooo! Go Berry!" of her own.)

Once facing her audience, Rachel's bright, wide smile slipped easily across her face as she nodded to her troops, before locking her eyes on the members of the school board seated in the center section as the noise again died down.

She managed to look both shy and bold simultaneously, reserved yet resilient, with the start of her address.

"Good evening. Ladies and gentlemen of the school board, I'd like to thank you in advance for your attention and careful consideration of the information and resulting proposal I, with the help of many of my peers," she indicated with a nod of her head to the massive amount of students crowded into the auditorium space, "intend to lay before you tonight. As I'm sure you remember from your own experience, adolescence can be quite a complicated stage in life. I stand before you, no longer a child. I must deal with such pressures as planning my future and balancing my time. I feel the weight of true responsibility every time I get behind the wheel of my car. I've been introduced to things like accountability, and consequences, as the result of my choices. And I believe you probably could say the same is true for each of your own sons or daughters. But all the same, I'm still not entirely an adult, either. I have much I'm still racing to learn before I leave high school, before I graduate on into college life and then beyond, before the time comes when I must stand entirely on my own. Until then, as I continue to pursue knowledge and growth in this very building, day after day, I still must rely on my parents, my teachers, _you_, for both guidance and protection. That is why I am here before you tonight. To ask, on behalf of myself and the 78% of the student body who fully support this proposal, for your assistance in creating a better William McKinley High School."

Lauren watched Rachel give a barely perceptible nod and then a projector screen lowered from the ceiling a few feet behind her.

"As you will see in the information I present, and through the documentation provided in the packets handed to you this evening, a number of McKinley students have been hard at work in the recent weeks collecting information, evaluating the current climate of our school, and are sad to say the state of things is, in one word, unacceptable. Over 60% of our student population has admitted to being the victim of/or witness to at least five instances of severe bullying since the start of the current school year. For clarity's sake, "severe" instances refer only to incidents where visible bodily harm was inflicted. Bruising, bleeding, broken bones. Yet, less than 23% of the population saw any form of disciplinary action taken, or any intervention for the sake of future prevention, in these cases. 82% of students came forward during our research to state that they believe we have a significant problem with verbal bullying, with almost 100% of those same students acknowledging that they are concerned for either their own safety or general well-being, or the safety/general well-being of some of their peers, while on school grounds.

"The truth which we hope to illustrate for you tonight is that those hallways," Rachel's slender arm pointed firmly over the audience towards the main entrance doors, "our gym and fields, our cafeteria and classrooms, are NOT part of a safe, healthy, productive environment, one that is conducive for learning and development. This is NOT the concern of a few, or a select minority…this is affecting the _majorit_y of our school's student body. And that majority is asking for your help in correcting it."

Clapping broke out amidst the teenagers again. This time Lauren had no idea where it started from, but she eagerly joined in.

She'd seen the short girl be assertive before, marching all around the school, usually to and from the choir room, all bossy and purpose-driven and authoritative. But while Lauren had always (though at first it was begrudgingly) respected Rachel Berry to a degree, and then recently come to truly like and enjoy her company, she was still shocked, and impressed, by the girl standing up now. She was an admirable force in this moment, as her voice grew stronger with every word. She was somehow _more _than Lauren could have ever imagined. And even as an overly confident and completely self-assured powerhouse-wrestling-badass herself, she couldn't help but be moved.

"I'd like to now continue this presentation with footage of this place during school hours, have some of my classmates and peers share their stories and experiences." Rachel blushed a little, stepping off stage as the video started.

Much of it Lauren had seen now several times through, having been present for many of the tapings and assisting with a good portion of the editing. Still, certain accounts affected her deeply despite the repetition. She hoped that the parents and educators in the audience, that the other students filling up the room behind her, all seeing this for the first time, felt the same tragic pull, the same gut-punch, at the honest-to-God sadness and loneliness and fear flickering across the screen. There was so much bad in the world that you couldn't avoid, could never escape; but there was pain you could be protected from, so long as someone, some _ones_, were willing to take a stand.

It was so quiet as the video played, and as the overflowing room watched every gasp, all the shuddering breaths or sniffles, each indignant huff, nearly echoed around them, amplified by stillness.

As it went on, there was something building in the air, some buzzing energy that Lauren could feel pulsing along her own skin, and it could not be ignored. For better or worse, every person in that room was reacting.

The final testimonial came on, a last-minute addition, that Lauren had sat in on the filming of and knew Artie specifically had kept from Rachel before this moment, omitted in all pre-screenings, afraid that she would refuse to let it in.

Three familiar voices filtered over the speakers, as two faces Lauren saw so often took over.

Artie, off screen, asked the two boys to introduce themselves.

"Hi, I'm Finn Hudson."

"And I'm Puck."

"Full name, please."

There was the ripple of a slight chuckle, almost a foreign sound due to the seriousness up to this point, throughout the auditorium as on-screen Puck (and Lauren turned her head slightly to notice in-audience Puck match the motion) rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Noah Puckerman."

Artie's voice sounded a little smug as he remarked quietly, "See, that wasn't so hard."

On-screen Finn cleared his throat a little, and sat a little straighter while Puck just lounged lazily, a bit more distance between their chairs than would be normal or necessary.

"We both letter in Baseball, Basketball, and Football. Some of you may know me already, as I've been the starting quarterback for the majority of the last two years."

Lauren thought Finn managed to sound proud, but not boastful, yet Puck's next comment was laced with his classic attitude and ego.

"You probably know me, since I'm the current leader in school history for both number of receptions and total receiving yards in football. I also happen to hold the record for fouling out of the most basketball games, but unfortunately you won't be finding that fun fact posted anywhere, despite my request for a plaque."

This time on-screen Finn rolled his eyes while there were more chuckles from their viewers.

"Anyway," Finn spoke up again, "though we both play sports here at McKinley…"

"And are awesome at them." Puck added, and Finn nodded despite looking annoyed at the interruption.

"…we are also both in the glee club, and have gotten a lot of crap, urgh, sorry Artie, uh…hassle, from the other guys on the football team and stuff because of it. But while it sucks to be out on the field with guys who've thrown slushies in your face, it's nowhere near what a lot of other kids have to deal with, so we aren't here to talk about being bullied. Instead, we thought it might be important for us to tell you the kind of guys we used to be, before glee when we were on the other end of things. 'Cause to be totally honest, we were kind of jerks."

Lauren was honestly surprised that not a single member of the student portion of the audience objected out loud to the use of "kind of." She remembers back to the Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman of junior high and freshman year, and she could barely find a way to reconcile those boys with the two almost-men she knew now.

"I was the first guy to ever throw a slushie, to my knowledge, at McKinley. It was cherry flavored and stained Rachel Berry's blue dress on the third day of 9th grade. I also probably still have more dumpster tosses to my credit than anyone else, ever, despite having given them up, like, a year ago. To put it bluntly, I used to be a huge as-" on-screen Finn stretched his arm out quickly and smacked Puck's shoulder mid-word (with a muttered, "Dude!") and Puck quickly edited himself, "um, jerk. And well, okay, I probably still am and all, but I used to be a jerk _and_ a bully. And the things I used to do to people, the things I still see getting done to people, it's serious stuff and it shouldn't be happening, but, as of right now, it's super freakin' easy to get away with so it's not going to stop."

On-screen Finn's cheeks flushed a little as he took up his part again and something about his expression reminded Lauren of a puppy who knew it had upset its owner. "I'm super ashamed now, of how I used to treat people. Especially because some of the kids I used to pick on, or worse, just stood by and watched get picked on, are, like, some of the most important people in my life at this point. But, I was even ashamed then too, while I was doing it. 'Cause my mom raised me to be better than that, and I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to be "cool" so badly, that I ignored what I knew was right and just went along with what everybody else was doing. For a really long time. Until a teacher, uh Mr. Schuester, forced me into joining glee club. At first, I really didn't want to, 'cause I thought it was like the uncoolest thing ever, but then things changed. I changed. Somehow, he threw us all together, even though we were all from like, different levels of high school coolness, and he made us get along. And, okay, there've been arguments, and sometimes tension or whatever, but we also have always known that he just expects us to give eachother a certain amount of respect, no matter what. And it shouldn't surprise anyone how that makes situations better, because it just makes sense, but it made all of us, like, better people, too. It made it easier for me to be the kind of guy my mom would be proud of, the guy I always wanted to be but just never was."

The video showed Finn shrug a little, obviously uncomfortable talking in front of the camera about this, but also clearly meaning every word, and Lauren wouldn't have been surprised if every single mother in the room wanted to hug him at the moment.

Puck started talking again then, and while much less cuddly, Lauren still found his words no less engaging.

"The way we figure it, none of you _want_ to see kids get tortured. Or at least, we freakin' hope not. You're parents. But some of you still may not want to step in. Maybe you're afraid _your_ sons or daughters are the ones starting stuff, pushing people around. And so you don't want to see them get in trouble, maybe you think you are protecting them, and that's more important to you than protecting some other kid that you don't know. But, I'm going to tell you, you aren't doing anyone any favors. I was an asshole," Finn's head turned abruptly, annoyed again at the cursing on camera, but Puck waved at him dismissively and Lauren remembered being impressed the night they taped this that he'd even made it this far in with any kind of success at self-censorship. He continued right along, "Who told himself that he was so cool and so tough, and then proved it to everyone else with his fists and some property damage. But really, I was just pissed off and miserable, and one scrawny kid was as good for taking it out on as anything else. Me getting away with it, for _years_, was obviously awful for the general student public, and indication that something in the way things are run was massively screwed up, but it honestly wasn't any good for me either. I was still just as pissed off as ever, and my attitude sucked. And I was so busy messing with other people, and then napping to regain my strength for the next attack, that my grades were shit-awful."

There was a snort from Artie behind the camera.

"Shut it, Abrams. You know they're improving. Anyway, you really want to help your own kids out? Don't let them be assholes."

The video's Finn hung his head, obviously frustrated at Puck's wording. But Lauren found herself thinking they were convincing, even if neither one of them was particularly eloquent. They were obviously _real_. And everyone watching could see that, clear as day.

Artie's voice thanked them for contributing and then the footage faded out, the soft background music drifting way. The lighting changed in the auditorium as the screen rose back into the rafters of the stage, and there was a loaded moment of pause and processing in the room. Rachel walked back out into the quiet and approached the mic again, quickly wrapping up on the video before moving on with the more statistical information. As she listened, Lauren felt for sure they were going to win this thing. They had to; their cause was too important, their case too strong.

Rachel continued on through the content of their message boards, presenting the data of activity and participation like a business executive, then reading the selection of posts with genuine heartbreak on her face, her tone one of clear empathy. She rattled off the examples from other schools, and the various academic and athletic successes those schools enjoyed, matter-of-factly. Then Lauren caught her let out a slow breath before diving into her finale.

"As this portion of the meeting concludes and you discuss all that has been brought up this evening, I'd like to again thank you all for hearing us out and for putting in due consideration on this matter. I plead for you to remember that a quality environment, especially a successful school, _needs_ variety. It needs athletes AND artists; it needs academics and musicians and comedians, too. It needs those who still have no idea where they fit or who they are, and are just trying everything to figure it out. But it does NOT need victims. It should NOT have victims. But whether or not this school will continue to, is up to you. Thank you."

With the tiniest of smiles and the most miniscule of nods, Rachel turned and walked again off stage.

There was again a pregnant pause, a contemplative hesitation… then the dam broke. And Lauren was out of her chair in an instant, barely registering the people who stood just as abruptly around her, the sound of their applause bouncing off the walls, swelling in the auditorium's careful acoustics. When she finally did think to take a look back, the present students were all on their feet, every one of them, as Figgins eyed them carefully on his way to the stage to move the meeting along.

Lauren Zizes had always been a glass half-empty kind of girl. Not necessarily a pessimist, but a realist who'd rather not waste time nor energy on hoping things were different, or searching for the silver lining. Sometimes it made her sound negative, but really she just wanted to see things as they truthfully were, flaws and all, so that she could deal with them correctly, and move on. But at this moment, she allowed herself to hope, to believe in the best-case scenario, to think that they had actually been heard and that they would succeed.

Maybe it was naively optimistic, but Berry was bound to rub off on her a little, wasn't she?

!

He couldn't believe it.

The conversation, spiraling out of control, rapidly, before his eyes and ears, was heated and energized and insane.

The things coming out of some of these people's mouths made William Schuester's heart hurt and his head ache.

Had they not been paying attention?

He'd sat, near a few of the glee kids' parents and Emma, and felt so much pride as Rachel addressed the board. She'd been articulate, as always, and incredibly controlled and poised, but she'd also shown herself as both vulnerable and compassionate as she navigated the tales of what it was like at this school, as she pleaded for their assistance. Her large brown eyes were shiny with carefully contained tears, and her voice broke just slightly, as she read aloud a passage that he knew she knew was Artie's, and one that was Mercedes'...and then one of her own.

A simmering anger was apparent when she spoke the words of another post, which Mr. Schue suspected had been entered by Sam, retelling of what he'd seen and heard an unnamed Kurt go through.

And those were just a few instances, in a staggering overflow of torment.

The video, which he had heard much about but had not seen himself before, was intense. And eye-opening, even for him who'd been already aware of the problem. He hated the parts that looked so familiar to him from his own time in the halls, how visibly volatile the general state of things seemed to be. But he especially loathed the clips that drew out sighs and sharp intakes of surprised breath from Emma beside him, at the suffering they had no idea some kids had had to face. How far some had been pushed by their classmates, only to then be trampled on while they were down, their pain ignored, or even enjoyed.

And yet, here he sat, listening to the liveliest debate he'd ever witnessed at a school board meeting. How there were two sides to this issue he couldn't understand. Who were these opposers to protecting children?

His eyes widened as Emma shot out of her seat beside him, her impassioned fury evident and reminding him, for just a second, of her tirade against Figgins last spring, when they thought glee was to be canceled. (His mind quickly moved to the memory as that was the day she'd first mentioned her now husband, but that he'd kissed her desperately anyway, telling her he loved her, telling her that that they were not over. But he couldn't concentrate on that recollection just now; he was too invested in her current speech.)

"You cannot seriously be standing there and suggesting that it isn't "our place" to intervene in "children's squabbles!" We are their parents and teachers. It is not only "our place," it is our duty to protect them, and when your so-called "squabbles" result in children spending _years _here, in fear for their physical safety, suffering through emotional agony, then if there is something within our power that can be done we are obligated to do it. I am not interested in protecting one child's popularity over another child's safety. And you shouldn't be either. Or you have no place making decisions for the well-being of these students."

Will began clapping furiously along with the spreading wave of audible approval at Emma's argument. He watched her shoulders rise and fall from the exertion of making her point with unwavering conviction. Her eyes were sharp and bright and the father, the opponent, who stood staring at her, seemed to step back a little at the ferocity in her gaze.

Will thought she looked glorious.

"But where is the line drawn?" Will turned his head as a woman he recognized as one the starting basketball players' mother spoke up. "How far do we step in before we're running their lives, keeping them from lessons that only handling their own problems teach them? Taking on a no tolerance policy is a huge insertion into their dealings, it would prevent certain students from learning to stand up for themselves or to handle life's inevitable dramas, things they are going to have to know when they are out in the world without anyone to hold their hands."

"And not taking this seriously teaches certain other students that there aren't often serious consequences for their actions, or that cruelty is allowable so long as they are pretty enough or athletic enough or rich. That's an awful mindset to build up in kids and then unleash on the world! You are afraid of doing so much, of stepping in too far, and so your alternative is to insist we do nothing?"

Will had never heard Belinda Lindsworth, the home economics teacher, speak with anything other than a soft, encouraging tone. He was a little impressed, and shot her a smile of solidarity.

"But every kid has a right to an education, don't they? Even the "mean" ones? The example policies she outlined all have severe responses and disciplinary actions, long-term suspensions and expulsions. I'm not saying we should let children get berated or pushed around, but isn't this approach going to just cause new and different issues?"

Will found himself wishing he could respond, searching quickly for the right words, but heard Coach Beiste cut in instead, her voice unusually soft but sure, her comments clearly concerned and sincere. "These policies only work at other schools because the responsive actions are substantial, because the issue is taken seriously and because the lines drawn are clear. If it's just a slap on the hand, a detention here or there, that's too easy. No one really learns the lesson. Chances are the bullies'll just come back harder, set on revenge even, and continue on the way they'd been going. And without such concrete definitions of what is bullying and when action is to be taken, there is too much room for interpretation, for he-said-she-said or inconsistency in the way each situation is handled. Then the real point of this, the hope for a changed environment, falls through the cracks. I'm still relatively new, but the division I've seen at this school is the worst I've ever witnessed. Every student _is_ entitled to an education, but every person is entitled to decency and basic respect. And there are so many kids here who aren't getting that. Expulsion is a serious threat; one that hopefully would keep most of the bullies from lashing out, but if someone does cross a line and has to leave? There are other schools, and hopefully they'd start off with an improved attitude somewhere else, having learned something. But an innocent student should not have to suffer, here, without any hope. No one should have to leave because they don't feel safe."

Will's eyes found Kurt's profile a little ways across the room and he winced at the memory of his student's departure. He'd wanted to help, even Sue had wanted to help, but their hands had been tied by the people in this room. Without a firm stand on the whole issue, it was too easy for Karofsky to slip by. In the school's disciplinary history, there was no precedent for anything other than allowances. And it was unacceptable.

"William."

His stare broke from Kurt as he heard the principal address him from his place at the mic, where Figgins had been inexpertly trying to moderate the volatile discussion.

"Several of the students have referenced how your glee club has made their own experiences different. Do you have anything to say?"

Will gulped. He wanted to speak up, he wanted to support his kids and change things. But….he'd also never been great with confrontation. His failed marriage made an excellent case-in-point. But he had been wishing since Rachel'd started all this that he'd done more before, to help her and Kurt and the others, and glancing back towards where the entire club was sitting together, united, and staring hopefully at him, he couldn't not try to do something to help them now. He stood, straightening his tie in a way that flashed a memory of Finn before a competition performance into his head and smiled at the thought. He'd been so proud watching the video's segment of Finn and Puck, at how brave it was for them to share that part of themselves, at the memory of the transformation he himself had been so fortunate to witness, and he wanted to be brave too.

He hoped they were right, that glee and something he offered them had helped change them to be better people, but he knew without a doubt those kids and glee had definitely helped make him a better man.

"Well, the issue is school-wide. There are students in every grade, of every type, who are suffering. But, to be honest, I've had to see my glee kids endure some of the worst of it, and it continuously saddens and infuriates me. Each and every one of them is so special, so talented, and they just want to be respected and appreciated for all they have to offer. And this school has denied them of that, time and time again. But, they aren't perfect. I'm certainly not, and our club isn't. And when I first took over last year, all the problems we've heard about tonight, were happening within that choir room, every day, between those 12 kids. But, in the beginning, I tried to distract them from their differences as much as possible with the obvious thing they all had in common: they all loved music. And, it was amazing. You'd see them walk in, full of attitude and drama. The separations clear. The Cheerios sat with the Cheerios. The Jocks, at their sides. The ones who'd been tormented for years by those cheerleaders and athletes eying them warily from the other side of the room. The kids who were used to flying under the radar looking around nervously, apprehensive. But then, the singing would start, and we'd plan out choreography, and the moment would come for them to run through it, and there was suddenly no division at all. They'd dance together and smile at each other and belt their hearts out. And it was genuine. When they were performing, that which they shared trumped everything that had stood in their way before. It was remarkable. And we kept at it, and it started to bleed into the non-singing time as well. Last year, several of them had a lot of hard life stuff going on, way outside of glee, outside of school. And, it became clear that while they may not always like each other, they'd support each other, 100%, through all of it. As the club continued to get harassed from the outside, they bonded over that as well. They started to stand up for each other, whenever they could, even at the expense of further torment."

Will felt something in his throat, and struggled in vain to clear it away, as he saw Mercedes reach along the back of the seats to gently touch Quinn's shoulder; Tina and Brittany wipe at their eyes; Artie nod at him, while Finn smiled encouragingly.

"Last semester, due to extreme and dangerous bullying, and this board's then refusal to take strong action to stop it, one of our own was forced to leave us, transfer schools, out of fear for his own safety. It's been like losing a family member, having him gone. And a few months ago, moved to action largely by her frustration over the reasons for his departure, Rachel began this movement. Since then, especially from all the preparation the club has been putting into the presentation tonight, I've seen them come together even more. The way they treat each other, the way they lean on each other…it's a really special thing that I get to witness five days a week. And I can't help but think, if they were never in a position where they were forced to get along at least a little, they'd maybe never have taken the opportunity to learn to respect each other, to grow to like each other. Yes, this policy would be a big step, a huge change, and nothing about it is subtle. Maybe it's not the only way to make high school hallways peaceful, tolerable. Maybe it's not even the best way. But I think it could work. I've seen it work; when you remove their capacity to tear each other down it's amazing what they can build together."

Will's remarks hung a moment in the air as he awkwardly sat back down. He found that he was shaking slightly, from the intensity with which he spoke, from the fervor with which he believed in what he said, and he wondered for just a moment, as a powerful adrenaline surged through him, if Rachel felt like this whenever she gave one of her impassioned speeches. He quickly looked back to the students he'd been speaking of, so adoringly, to see they all now stood, clapping and looking at him with such grateful expressions. He noticed Rachel now with them too, her eyes shining as she stood close beside an equally tearful Kurt, and she mouthed, "Thank you," before giving him one of her giant smiles. He returned it, though shakily, with everything he had.

He didn't look away from them even as he felt Emma's hand take hold of his own and give it a gentle squeeze.

As the applause died down a little, he heard Figgins' voice announce it was time to put the issue to a vote. He was eager to get to the results, but yet he couldn't help but think that no matter the outcome, no show choir victory could ever make him nearly as proud as he already was of his kids.

!

It was pandemonium. Sam didn't know how else to describe it. A clash of countless limbs and cries and madness. There was so much noise it was near impossible to make out any specific sounds (save the failing pleas of one Principal Figgins, crackling over the speakers, asking for restored order).

Yet one thing_ was_ distinguishable, totally apparent despite all the insanity; one thing he felt and saw and knew, clearly and distinctly.

Relief.

He was pretty sure most everyone in the room felt it, too. Certainly all the assembled students.

But none more so than those he was himself being pulled in by, those who were practically tackling him, as they nearly trampled each other in the forming of an over-sized group hug,

His first thought when the ruling was announced (with a passing vote of 90%), in favor of their proposed anti-bullying policy, was that _she_ did it.

His second thought was that _they_ kinda all did, too.

His maybe fifteenth thought (or whatever number he was on now) was that he'd really like to celebrate by kissing his girlfriend, but the little glimpse of familiar blonde at the center of the people-pile, which the entire glee club was currently engaged in, was pressed tightly to a head of shiny brown hair and he knew he couldn't pull her away (even if he managed to get his arm free from Mercedes' grasp) until she had finished having her moment with Rachel.

He'd always adored Quinn, practically from the very first moment he met her. Even though she'd blown him off repeatedly, been unapologetically shallow, even intentionally cruel. (Hell, she'd even professed a _need_ for _torturing_ the girl she now clung too, an attitude that pretty much contradicted his very nature of unimposing friendliness.) Yet…he'd seen something else, felt something more, when he'd literally started drowning in those eyes one afternoon in the science lab. There were layers and layers to the captivating Ms. Fabray, and while they weren't all perfect, Sam was pretty enamored with the total package they created.

But, now, seeing her overjoyed that this had worked, that Rachel had succeeded and things were set to change? He realized he loved her so much more in this moment than he'd ever thought possible at the age of 17. On some level, he supposed he had Rachel to thank for that, but it was also largely to Quinn's own credit. At some point, somewhere in this battle they'd all been fighting, she'd not necessarily changed, but certainly grown. She'd willfully allowed a part of herself she'd long kept hidden, secret, to be exposed (on occasion), and he wondered if she had any idea how much more beautiful it had made her.

Eyes catching slight shuffling motions, they broke his love-sick reverie and he noticed Quinn pull back from Rachel finally, head turning with a searching gaze. He moved his own head down a fraction to see her more fully from beneath Mike's arm (that was reaching across their gleembrace to fist bump with Finn). She turned further and he was finally able to catch her eye and offer a small smile, and he saw her lips pulls wide into a gorgeous grin in return. She whispered something to Rachel, but without taking her eyes from his, before slipping her head down and somehow, gracefully, magically, managing to extract herself from the center of it all and pull him a little away.

"Hey."

Seeing her up close he noticed her eyes were a little glassy with tears, but sparkling also from the unrestrained joy dancing in them. He was accustomed to picking out the emotions in those eyes, but it was rare that she showed them so freely. And he'd already felt a little breathless from the adrenaline of it all, but she stole the rest of it away with ease. It took a moment before he could get a word out. "Hey."

"This is amazing. Insane… but amazing, right?"

Sam nodded.

"I'm just so _proud_ of her."

"Well, I'm so proud of _you_."

He chuckled a little at her quirked questioning brow, but she was smiling.

"I didn't do anything except try to be less of a bitch."

He rolled his eyes at her, but had to admit that wasn't _entirely_ untrue, even if she was selling herself short.

"You did more than that, and you know it. The t-shirts, for one thing."

"I was at Hobby Lobby for my art class supplies anyway. The iron-on letters were right there."

"You convinced Finn and Puck to play nice long enough to record their segment."

"I merely told them to stop being morons before they ruined everything."

Sam laughed with exasperation. "Would you stop being so modest. It's not very Quinn-like and it's freaking me out." He laughed harder when that earned him a playful slap on the arm. "Rachel did great, _amazing_, and I'm proud of her too. But she didn't do it alone and you know as well as me that she'd be the first to admit that. And, for someone who used to really hate her, you…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been very supportive. I am, after all, pretty fond of that bossy little nutjob now." She pursed her lips and shook her head a little, though her fondness was evident.

"Seriously, Quinn. You had nothing to gain from any of this. You haven't been slushied since you got back on the squad, you may not be the most revered queen of the halls like you were _before_, but you're still pretty close to the top. Yet, you kinda put that on the line to stick up for the rest of the club, for Rachel and Kurt and Artie. And of all the reasons I have to be proud that you're my girlfriend? This one might be my favorite."

He leaned forward and pressed a soft but lingering kiss on her lips, and when he pulled (somewhat begrudgingly) away, he found the corners of her lips lifted into a soft smile.

But slowly, it fell and her expression was suddenly solemn, if not a little sad. "I had always thought the only way I'd ever be happy was when I had it all, perched on my high school throne, with a quarterback at my side, and the rest of the school fearful and adoring at my feet."

Her voice is low, but despite the roar surrounding them, he makes her words out easily. He's just so focused on her, and whatever she has to say that has that barely-seen vulnerability shining through, that the rest of the room, maybe the whole world, disappears for a moment. "I spent years doing whatever I thought it'd take to get there. Making so many people miserable, making myself miserable, making _her_ miserable, chasing that illusion. When everything fell to pieces? She of all people was one of the few who stood by me. And yet I still hated her." She laughed a little bitterly, obviously frustrated with her past self, and Sam rubbed her arm lightly, sympathetically, with his fingertips. "Until she wrote that damn letter."

She took a deep breath and when her smile returned he thought she was maybe glowing a little. "Now… I'm finally actually happy, Sam. And sure, I'm still a pretty blonde cheerleader and a shoe-in for prom court, but I know that has absolutely nothing to do with it. I'm happy because of you, and because of glee. And because of Rachel. Because she had seen me at my absolute worst, and _still_ didn't hate me, and showed me that having friends you can say that about? Is worth a whole lot more than being popular. I didn't really put anything on the line, Sam. Or at least not anything I wasn't completely willing to lose."

He beamed at her before wrapping her tightly in his arms, squeezing, before leaning down a little to press his lips against her forehead, barely seeing the continued celebration around them. When she pulled back just slightly to look up at him, her smile took on a mischievous turn.

"Not that I'll complain about still getting that tiara when Prom rolls around."

He just pulled her further into his side, arm settled around her slender shoulder as they now shifted in unison and walked the few steps back towards their friends who'd finally separated themselves and appeared to all be getting ready to leave.

Puck turned to him just as Quinn went to grab her jacket. "We're all heading to grab a bite at Breadstix, on the Mr. Berries. You and Q in?"

"Of course."

"Cool, 'cause I think Crazy'd bawl her eyes out if anyone skipped out." Puck rolled his eyes, but there was so much affection in his voice Sam didn't know why he bothered to pretend he was at all put out by Rachel's dramatics.

After slapping their hands together in the "bro-pack" handshake Artie'd started a few weeks back between the glee guys, Puck started up the aisle towards the auditorium's exit, before pausing to look back at Sam, a hesitant expression on his face.

"Oh, and can, uh, you also tell Q thanks for me? She'll know what for."

"For berating your ass into cooperating with Finn for the video? Sure, I'll tell her."

Sam laughed as Puck snorted in frustration before muttering "damn meddling, over-chatty broads," under his breath.

Shaking his head and shrugging, Sam just offered a smile. Yeah, Quinn could be one of those he guessed, but again, he loved her. Flaws and all.

!

Brittany S. Pierce stood at her place at one end of the large table in Breadstix's party room, smiling down at Artie to her lef- no, right? To her side. Before hitting her fork against her cup a few times to gain everyone else's attention. "I'd like to suppose some toast!"

She smiled brightly as a few people chuckled, including her favorite Mr. Berry (the shorter one who always bought her favorite cookies for when she came over) who shot her an encouraging nod, even though she wasn't sure why what she said was funny.

She'd planned out what she wanted to tell them on the car ride over from the school building, but now that she was looking down the long table at everyone's faces (all twelve other gleeks, Rachel's dads, Kurt's father and Finn's mom, and Mr. Schuester), each one smiling, or smirking, or grinning, at her, looking so happy, she was too excited to be there with them all to remember her exact words anymore. So she guessed she'd simply have to wing it.

"I think most everyone here deserves their hands, because of all the work they put in and stuff. Especially my man and LZ, because that video made me cry all six times I watched it. And Cedes and Tines, Sam-he-am and Mikey-MC, for making posters and then letting me hang them up and make phone calls, because it was really cool that so many kids were there tonight and I think it was great we helped make that happen. And definitely Q and Tana, too, because Rachie told me the t-shirts we all wore made her feel really good when she saw them and like she could do it, and we already knew that she could, but I think it was probably important that she knew it too, before she had to go out there all by herself in front of everyone." Brittany paused when she noticed a blush spread a long Rachel's cheeks, but she plowed on. "Also, Finn and Puck, because they didn't kill each other. And Kurt, because we've all missed him a bunch and we want him to come back if he wants to, and now he can safely, and he really gives the greatest hugs."

She started clapping and after a small pause, everyone else joined in too. There were some high fives and pats on the back and congratulatory murmuring before Brittany called for attention again.

"But most importantly, I think we should give toast to Rachel, because she's the bravest person I know, and one of the nicest. She has never made me feel stupid and she forgave me for being mean before, and she always tells me I can sing good, not just dance good, and she lets me hang out at her house a lot and I like it there because it's always fun and happy and comfortable, and if I could bring my cat over I think it'd be my favorite place in the world. I think it's really awesome that our school won't be so mean and scary any more, and I think we're all really lucky that Rachel's our friend...so, to Rachel!"

Brittany giggled as Artie shouted, "Preach!" and Lauren, "Holla!"

Everyone clapped as Rachel stood and made her way to the top of the table, pulling Brittany into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry there's not any actual toast, but Artie said that part is just an expression anyway?"

Brittany grinned as her explanation made Rachel hug her tighter with a light laugh, before pulling away and wiping at her eyes.

As the brunette made her way back to her chair Brittany took her own seat, leaning in towards Artie. "Did I do okay?"

She blushed at the sweet kiss her boyfriend placed on her lips as he whispered, "You did perfect."

Scooting her chair even closer to his to comfortably rest her head on his shoulder, she looked down the table at all of her friends and she felt so giddy; it was like bubbles in her throat or being tickled on the inside. She'd never been so surrounded by people she cared about so much before.

And even if it _was_ just an expression, Brittany figured she should maybe bring some toast to Rachel for breakfast in the morning, just in case. So Rachie would know beyond any doubt that she was appreciated.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: It's been a while, so I obviously suck. But hopefully the story doesn't?

Reviews would be grand. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own these peoples, and I mean no harm.

!

Realistically, things weren't going to be perfect. Not suddenly; not ever. And Kurt was both reasonable and intelligent enough for that fact not to be surprising.

But since his stepbrother and friends returned to McKinley's halls in the days following the board meeting, while he simply went off as usual to Dalton, by Friday he _had_ to ask for a report on the overall situation as the new policy took effect.

He was incredibly curious as to whether their victory had really had an impact. After all, he couldn't not _consider_ a return to McKinley, now that it was theoretically safe.

The answers he'd received from Finn, Mercedes, and a surprisingly forthcoming Santana, had all been nearly the same.

For some, the celebration of a new era continued. There was a visible shift in certain students' demeanors, as they showed more confidence and ease walking down the hallways; their heads up, eyes on the world for once, not on their feet.

Some though, while relieved at the policy's passing, remained hesitant, waiting for time to prove things were_ actually _different.

And obviously, some were furious. And while those disgruntled over the new rules had yet to test Figgins' decree that "any and all abuse, witnessed or reported, of a fellow student, whether physical or verbal, would result in immediate disciplinary action as outlined in the revised Code of Conduct," it was clear in the set of Dave Karofsky's jaw and the sharpness of Timothy Powers' glare that they weren't pleased, or at all prepared to simply accept this.

But all the same, so far, they'd been completely still and totally silent. And even three days free of insults and shoves, free of dumpster-tosses and slushies, seemed like a miracle.

So, after hours of careful, solitary deliberation, Kurt reached a conclusion. (Albeit a difficult one, considering how fond he had become of Blaine, and the rest of the Warblers, too.)

He wanted to finish out high school with his family.

That meant Finn, of course, but really the rest of the gleeks as well.

He wanted to be in the choir room again, working through Mr. Schuester's often awkward choreography, and listening to his even more frequently awkward life lessons. He wanted to know what was happening with Cedes and Rach and the others, not just because they told him, but because he saw it happen, or had it happen to him too.

But, as far as the matter of _when_ he'd transfer back? A clear answer on that point still escaped him.

Regionals were literally right around the corner, and with both schools set to compete, it felt like quite the dilemma to decide which team he should be competing with.

At this point, he'd been around for all of the Dalton preparations. Not only did the current song contenders for the final set list incorporate him in key places, but he also understood the team's strategy and efforts and plan. If he left now, would they feel betrayed? Even suspect him of cheating, selling them out? That would certainly never be his intention, and he'd never tell New Directions anything about the Warbler's set. He wasn't Sue Sylvester, and he respected both teams too much to taint the competition in any way. But thinking of the Warbler boys, and how welcoming and accepting they'd been of him from the moment he set foot in that school, he couldn't stand the idea that they might think ill of him, even if he would know their suspicions would be unfounded, untrue.

_But_… at the same time, going back quickly held so much appeal. He definitely didn't want to wait until next year if it was avoidable.

Firstly, he knew the tuition cost had been a burden on his father and Carole, and the idea of preventing them from even a fraction of the financial strain had him eager to make the switch.

Secondly, there was the matter of the glee club itself. If he waited until after Regionals, and New Directions won without him, would he feel left out as he worked with them towards Nationals? Because he hadn't been part of that important step in the journey, the moment when they redeemed themselves from the disappointment and defeat of last year? He knew of course that none of them would want him to feel that way, but that didn't mean he wouldn't.

And what if they lost Regionals, to the Warblers or Aural Intesnity, or the evil Vocal Adrenaline? And by waiting until afterwards, he lost his opportunity to ever perform with them again? They'd been spared cancelation once, but as far as he understood it, if they didn't place at Regionals this year, the club was officially done.

The idea of never singing with them again was literally physically painful.

Besides, he just really _missed_ them.

He felt stuck, between a rock and a hard place, trying to determine the best thing to do, for himself and for all the people he now cared about. And the more he thought, the more unsure of the entire situation he felt.

By Sunday evening, he was desperate, and therefore had no choice but to call for a meeting of the minds, a gathering of his most trusted advisors. He needed answers from the people whose opinions he valued the most.

(Save Burt and Carole. He suspected, for better or worse, they were both just wonderful enough to say whatever he decided was fine… Damn them.)

So he asked Finn to join him and Mercedes, Rachel, Blaine, and Grant down in his room that evening, assembling a veritable dream team of support. He was a lucky guy to have them all in his life, to have them to turn to….

Except, however, at this exact moment, when they all happened to be driving him thoroughly and completely insane.

He _needed_ their input and wisdom, but apparently, they all got along far too well to focus.

He looked around his room in annoyance as his throat clearing failed to get their attention.

Blaine had been around the house often enough lately to have become fairly good friends with Finn in his own right, so the two of them were chatting animatedly over some sporting event or another (while Finn also put a rapid and substantial dent into the snacks Kurt had prepared). Grant, who had tagged along several times since their first piano bar excursion when Kurt hung out with Rachel and Mercedes, was entertaining the two girls now with details of a sweet, if not incredibly awkward, blind date he'd been on the night before.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt cleared his throat again, more loudly this time, and then began fake-choking, as obnoxiously as he could, until all eyes finally, FINALLY, were on him.

Once he had his audience alert and attentive, he was determined to get answers.

"There's actually a very important reason that I asked you all to assemble together, and I hope you don't mind that I need your help in making what, for me, feels like a rather difficult decision."

He shifted a little, trying to find a comfortable position as he stood, while the expressions of his brother and friends ranged from confused to concerned.

"Now that McKinley has adopted a similar policy to Dalton's in regards to bullying, after much deliberation I have decided that I would like very much to transfer back."

Immediately a large grin found its way onto Finn's face (which Kurt couldn't help but feel touched by) and his girls squealed with delight, Rachel clapping her hands happily together.

Kurt chuckled at her exuberance, before looking hard at Blaine and Grant.

He wondered if it was just his strong feelings for the former that interpreted the look Blaine was wearing as disappointed.

"I've really enjoyed Dalton. And both of you, as well as all the other Warblers, have been beyond amazing. But, McKinley is, well, _home_. And I'd really like to graduate next year with my brother."

He shot a small smile back to Finn.

There was a pause, and while the girls continued to gush at him, and Grant smile encouragingly as if to say he understood, Blaine's eyes were narrowed with question.

"I understand, Kurt. And while I'll miss you a great deal, I have to admit I sort of expected as much. But if you've already decided, what do you need our help with?"

Kurt shrugged a little. "Well, as everyone in this room is well aware, both schools are to compete for the chance to go to Nationals in New York in just a few short weeks. I do not want to hurt anyone or have my loyalty to either team be questioned. And, I just…I'm not sure what is the best way to handle this."

There was a short pause before Rachel, in typical fashion, was first to speak up.

"Kurt, the gleeks all love you. Whether you transfer next week or next year…or never…we just want you to be happy. There's no pressure from us for you to come back before you feel comfortable, for any reason."

Mercedes nodded to indicate she agreed. He smiled at them both, relieved to know that if he put this off a little while, they wouldn't hold it against him.

"Same from us, man. Sure you're an advantage to whichever team you're on because you're really talented, but the guys all _know_ you. No one's going to think you transferred with any nefarious intentions. And I don't think anybody would ever expect you to put a singing competition above being happy. Or, well, I'd have thought Rachel actually might, but since she just said she didn't'…"

"Very funny, Grant."

"Seriously, Kurt. Go back to McKinley. The Warblers will understand, without any hard feelings." Blaine's voice, usually so strong, and clear, wavered a little, and he swallowed heavily before continuing with a small smile. "But, we will not, of course, be taking it easy on you."

A powerful sense of relief hit Kurt and he chuckled through the start of (happy) tears as Mercedes then Rachel stood to hug him, before the latter turned, one arm still curled around his side, towards Blaine.

"Bring it."

!

Sipping her decaf coffee, Rachel waited for Kurt to return with their scones. She knew the decision he'd reached the other night hadn't been an easy one, and actually letting the Dalton guys know this afternoon that he was transferring had been very difficult for him. She was hoping a little time away from the house, just to dish about Blaine, and his current plan of ensembles for his first week back out of that blazer, would help lessen some of the stress. He seemed fine now, but she was sure that instigating another big change had been, at the very least, a little overwhelming.

"Here you are, Ms. Berry." Kurt placed the cranberry scone before her with a little flourish before smiling adorably and retaking his seat.

"Why, thank you, kind sir."

She took a bite, playing up the sounds of delight at the taste just to make him chuckle at her dramatics. Which he did, as he shook his head, his face a playful mix of disgust and fondness.

In that moment, she had a brief thought that someday, a little over a year and a half from now, her and Kurt might be doing this very thing at some coffee shop in New York in between classes, but while that was an enjoyable notion, she still quickly decided to restore her attention to the present.

"So, dish. Tell me about 'The Talk' with Blaine. Did he finally admit that three weekends in a row of dinner-and-a-show, just the two of you, constitutes dating?"

Kurt's expression remained irritatingly stoic as looked at her, sipping his coffee coolly, rather than answering. She leaned forward across the table, motioning with her hands for him to come out with it, her eyes wide with waiting.

He drew out the quiet, a little twinkle giving away his enjoyment of her unrestrained anticipation, before finally caving with a broad grin and a little headshake of mirth.

"He admitted, readily, that there was much more than mere friendship between us, and that the time we've spent together has been truly special to him. He went on to divulge that while he has always been cautious, despite being proudly out, when it came to relationships, something about me makes him feel like he doesn't need to be, and that he hopes I feel the same way about him because…" he elongated the word, stretching it with extra syllables, "he'd like to be my boyfriend!"

"Kurt!" Rachel jumped out of her seat as she squealed and took steps around the table to throw her arms around him in a celebratory hug. "That's so great! Oh, you two are just so cute together that I'd love nothing more than to hate you for it but I can't!"

Kurt laughed as he hugged her back, before releasing her to return to her own seat.

"I just… I almost can't believe it, you know? He's so amazing. Smart, and so talented, but still very kind and humble. He inspires me, with how comfortable and open he is, and how supportive he's been. And yet he says _he's_ crazy about _me_." Kurt shook his head a little with pleased disbelief. "I used to be so afraid, so convinced, that I was just going to be alone. For a long time, if not forever. But…"

Kurt continued on, revealing more of his conversation with Blaine and how surprised, but wonderful, their newly defined relationship made him feel.

Rachel listened, of course, her eyes bright with excitement and genuine gladness for her friend, but yet couldn't manage to give the blushing boy before her the _entirety_ of her attention.

A tiny corner of her mind was consumed with the thought that many of the feelings Kurt described were almost too familiar.

Once she too had feared she'd always be lonely.

Until Finn.

"…I am ecstatic to be returning, truly I am. But having never had a boyfriend, I'm concerned enough about getting that right, before even factoring in the distance thing. You don't think it's foolish to begin something right now, do you? With only a week together at Dalton before I transfer?"

Taking another bite of her scone to stall a little while she contemplated her answer, Rachel forced all the Finn-shaped nostalgia from her mind in order to focus.

"I think _every_ relationship comes with its own obstacles: Physical miles, conflicting social circles, crippling insecurities, complicated histories, just to name a few of the possible barriers to happiness. But they can _all_ be overcome, Kurt. So long as both parties are in a place where they are willing and able to take the necessary steps to get over them." She swallowed back the tickling in her throat, the prickling reaction of her subconscious to her own advice. "Dalton isn't that far, and summer is coming soon anyway. Plus, from the way you've been able to keep up with all of us at McKinely for the last few months? You are already a pro at this. I'm not saying it won't be a challenge at times, but I think the foolish thing would be to let that stop you. Nothing great is ever easy, and the fact is that you and Blaine are _great_ together. A "35-minute commute, in light traffic" isn't going to change that."

Rachel's wide eyes took in the pale face of the boy across from her, and she could see that he was drinking in her words, her conviction, with both relief and gratitude, and she hoped that he was luckier in love than, as to this point, she had been.

He sniffed a sharp breath through his nose as she finished, and gave a tiny nod, before smiling at her with appreciation.

"You know, you really are an amazing friend, Rachel Berry. And in case you didn't already know, I really am sorry I never gave you much credit for that before."

"I know, Kurt." She said quietly, trying not to dwell on what used to be a "friendship" of tension and superficiality between them. "And for the record, _you _are an amazing friend, too."

"Oh, I know." The boy smiled smugly, playfully. "Now, let me tell you what I plan to wear my first day back."

Rachel giggled as he started off on a tangent, assuring him time and again that she could not wait to see the ensembles themselves.

Their lighter conversation continued, even as most other patrons finished up and headed out. By the time the glaring from the waitress on duty was noticed by them both, the shop would technically be closing in four minutes and they were the only customers left.

Making their way into the back parking lot, lit only by a few streetlamps and the moon, they bickered jokingly until, half-way across the lot, catching sight of a familiar figure startled them both into stopping.

"Hmm. Here comes my least favorite fag/hag combo. Fancy meeting you here."

Rachel felt all the hair on the back of her neck stand up at the sound of Karofsky's voice, at the sight of him leaning casually against her car, and Kurt's hand quickly reached over to squeeze at her own, but her friend's voice was sure as he replied, deceptively cool, considering she knew he was shaking.

"'Fancy meeting you here' is definitely not the straightest way to say that, Dave. Careful. People might hear you talk like that, and then what would they think?"

"Shut up, Hummel."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the inarticulate comeback, but caught herself flinching when the football player stepped off from her car and towards them. Quickly, she tried to muster up the same surprising (and possibly entirely faked) confidence Kurt had shown. "What do you want, Karofsky? You can't be prowling around the Lima Bean's parking lot at 9pm on a Tuesday for no reason. Or that'd just be pathetic."

"The only pathetic one around here is you, Berry. Resorting to a gay date because all the straight guys won't have you. For once you don't have your body guards in place, and you can try and talk like you're tough on your own, but we all know you're not."

"What are you going to do? Beat us up? Teach us a lesson for being gay, and having friends, and not needing to throw a ball around to feel like we have purpose? If that's your plan then get to it. This may be your last chance. When I start back to McKinley next week, you say a word, you lift a finger, and you're gone." Kurt stared at Karofsky, without a trace of fear showing on his face, and Rachel squeezed his fingers even tighter to try and convey her pride in him.

"We'll see. You losers may have won your little crusade on paper. But things don't change overnight, and people will always know who's really in charge there. It isn't your little glee club, or your precious Mr. Schuester, and it sure as hell isn't Principal Figgins. I'm the king of that school and do-"

"Oh. My. God. Attack us or leave, but shut up already. And people say I talk too much!" Rachel felt the exasperation push out from within her, her voice shrill with annoyance. "You really feel that way, fine. Wait until next week and try something. Test the policy out and see how much things have changed. I mean, sure you aren't really well liked and you don't have a girlfriend and your nomination for Prom King didn't pass at Student Council, but I guess being a bully really has to have done something for you, right? So it's got to be worth whatever being an asshole might cost you now. It won't hurt your future if you get expelled or anything, I'm sure, since you don't seem particularly college-bound."

"All of your power was tied up in fear. And once, I handed you a lot of it. I let you chase me out, away from my friends, my family. But I am not afraid anymore. Everyone who worked together to get this passed showed me I don't have to be. You don't have to like me, you don't have to agree with how I live my life, but you will _not_ scare me. Ever again. Now, Rachel and I are leaving, and you are going to let us get by without another word. And I strongly suggest that become a theme for you, David. 'Without a word.'"

Not even waiting for Karofsky to react, or move an inch, Rachel felt Kurt pull her at an angle to move passed the much larger boy, and around to her car. He opened the driver door, offering her a small smile as she slipped inside, and then he quickly, but still without showing anything but calm, walked around the front and got in the passenger side.

Rachel's hands shook a little still as she slipped the key in, turned it, and shifted into drive, but as she pulled away without even glancing at the boy still standing in the lot, she figured it was as much from adrenaline and revelation as from fear.

She couldn't help but feel like this was a test.

And just as they were both used to academically, they'd passed with flying colors.

!

"You look like a nervous wreck."

Mercedes looked up to where the newly arrived Max leaned against her doorframe, and glared. "Thanks a lot."

He chuckled a little as he stepped carefully over the scattered piles of sheet music that were spread out around her on her bedroom floor and moved to sit at her desk chair. "Well, a beautiful, nervous wreck to be sure, but definitely like a woman who is about to scream."

He smiled warmly at her and she tried to keep from swooning at the compliment he'd tucked into his teasing. To alleviate the lightheadedness he always seemed to bring on, she refocused on her maddening task.

"I told Mr. Schue that I'd get my top three choices picked out by tomorrow's rehearsal, so we could look at them in relation to the group numbers we're doing. I thought it'd be so easy. But, now? I can't seem to make up my damn mind." She flipped through the stack to her right, despite knowing she'd just looked through it not even a full three minutes before, and sighed with increasing frustration. "And for, like, the first time _ever_, Rachel had no opinion, _at all_, when I asked what she thought. Seriously, I didn't even think that was possible. Girl has an opinion on every thing!"

"Maybe she just knows you're going to kill with whatever song you do? Seriously, you're voice is _amazing_; you can't go wrong."

Mercedes could feel the heated flush spread across her face and fixed her eyes on the papers in her hand to keep her embarrassment from his view as much as possible. "Thanks."

She gulped down the giddy feeling his words had given her as best she could before continuing. "There's just so much pressure. I mean, we can NOT lose this thing. And I've _always _wanted a solo at competition, don't get me wrong. But that don't mean I'm not freakin' out about it."

As she sat there, thinking about the stress of it all, it was actually making the decision process worse. So much so that she barely noticed Max moving smoothly from the chair and lifting the stack of papers to her left in order to make room to sit on the floor at her side.

She totally noticed when he took her hand into his and squeezed it, though. The chills she felt instantly at his touch were nothing if not attention-grabbing.

"It's okay to freak out, this is a big deal. But just know that, in the end, whatever you do decide on? Is going to be awesome. Because _you _are."

Another squeeze of his hand encouraged her to lift her gaze over to his, and after a second of locking in on his brown eyes, her heart practically stopped when he leaned in to press his lips softly against hers.

When he finally pulled away more than a few moments later she noticed she felt significantly calmer, more at ease. She smiled at him softly as she squeezed his hand back. "Thank you. I think I needed to hear that. Like, for real."

He grinned. "My pleasure. Now...let's see what you got here."

She watched him peruse papers she'd looked at close to a thousand times.

"Well, I happen to be partial to this song," he said as turned the sheet to face her. "Regardless as to whether you think you want to do it for the competition, I'd love to hear you sing it."

"Right now?"

Max nodded with a shrug. "Feels like the perfect time for a little Al Green to me."

Slightly hesitant, but also flattered and smitten, Mercedes started to stand. Quickly, Max got to his feet in order to offer his hand and she could NOT get over what a gentlemen he was. (For the record, neither could Kurt, Rachel, or Lauren, who had all repeatedly voiced envy over the fact.)

She giggled, just for a second, to clear away any tension, and motioned for him to sit back on the desk chair, before closing her eyes to hear the music in her head.

"_I'm, I'm so in love with you,_

_whatever you want to do_

_is alright with me._

'_Cause you make me feel_

_so brand new._

_And I want to spend my life_

_with you…"_

She smiled as she could feel the song building around her, inside her, even without the instrumentation, and as she moved along she started to play with it, stretching and rolling notes and painting her own style into every line.

She opened her eyes briefly to assess his reaction, only to find him beaming at her, absorbing every note with what she couldn't deny was adoration on his face. She closed her eyes as she worked in a particularly involved run, before smoothing it out with incredible control.

And as she headed into the final chorus, she wasn't sure if it was his being there or what, but she kinda thought she'd never sounded better.

"_Let's, Let's stay together_

_Loving you whether, whether_

_Times are good or bad, happy or sad._

_Oooh, come on. Let's, Let's stay together._

_Loving you whether, whether_

_Times are good or bad, happy or sad."_

As soon as she let the last note fade he was clapping and getting up to hug her tightly and press another soft kiss to her lips.

"God, you are incredible! And I'm no show-choir expert, but I think that alone should blow all your competition out of the water."

"Seriously?"

"Definitely." He pulled her in for another tight hug before leaning back with that breathtaking grin on his face.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to tell Mr. Schue that I've found my solo for Regionals!"

Feeling a push of courage like never before, Mercedes leaned back in for their most heated kiss yet.

!

"This shit is lame, Berry. I need a break."

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose as she heaved a loud, drawn out sigh.

"We've barely started, Noah. We are, after all, running significantly behind schedule since you forced me to suffer through that atrocious new dog-person album before you'd even agree to begin looking at these packets. Now, I know you have a ridiculously short attention span for a young man on the verge of true adulthood, but you should, at the very least, be able to sit here, still and awake, for at least half an hour, and select which of these you want to pursue and start outlining some of your essay responses. We're almost finished with our junior year, admissions deadlines will start before you know it, and this entire process is only going to get more burdensome the longer you procrastinate."

"Yeah, yeah. Nine months'll go by so fast, whatever. I'm grabbing a snack. And Snoop Dogg is awesome."

Rachel sighed again, softer this time as it was more for herself than to outwardly express frustration with his constant distractions. Puck made his way from the Berry table to the pantry, rustling about a few moments before returning with a packet of peanut butter crackers for him and an applesauce for her.

She gave a quick smile of thanks, but noticed his gaze never quite fell on her face to see it.

Which quickly told her that something was off.

Puck never shied away from eye contact.

A quick visual assessment furthered her suspicion that something suddenly had him on edge. She took in the sight of him as he munched on the crackers. His posture was horrific, as usual, but she noticed a strain in the muscles down the side of his neck, as if he was holding his shoulders tensely, too rigid and tight. The appearance of aloof lounging was obviously just for show, or at the very least, only a product of practiced habit. He was definitely not really at ease.

She then noted the way his eyes raked quickly over the pages of the college brochure he was leafing through quietly as he ate. She knew from the speed of his gaze drifting across each page, and even more so from how swiftly he kept flipping to the next one, that he wasn't actually taking any information in…he was faking it, absorbed by some thought of his own that was pulling his eyebrows together just a little, dipping them lower than normal, with what she thought might be worry.

Her chest ached a little. She hated that something was troubling him, but hated it more that he hadn't just told her whatever it was.

She knew, lately, there were certain things that, despite their closeness, she was not ready to talk about with him. She suspected he knew that, too, and couldn't help but wonder if that was why he was keeping whatever was on his mind to himself.

Regardless, she couldn't stand to see him upset though. She had to risk it.

"Noah, what's wrong?"

He looked up at her fast and startled (apparently he was unaware at how poorly he was hiding his melancholy), but immediately she detected a little bit of shame in the way he averted his eyes again just as quickly.

"Nothing's wrong, Berry." His smirk was far from genuine. "'Cept, of course, that you're making me write shit I'm not even gettin' graded on, when I could be watching all those _Boardwalk Empire_ episodes your dads still have on the DVR. Nudity, violence, foul language; HBO is the shit."

"Noah, cut it out. While I'm sure you would prefer to be watching TV, I know you know that this is all important for getting into the right college. And I know that you really do _want_ to go to college, no matter how much you complain about school in general. We've been looking into this for awhile now, and you sent in all the information requests for these institutions yourself, why the sudden attitude? Something's obviously upset you, and I'm not sure if it even has anything to do with the applications, but whatever it is, it might help to talk about it."

She expected further protestation, thought he might even snap at her for nagging, but she was caught off guard when he merely kept his eyes downcast while giving a slow and begrudging nod, before speaking up, quieter than she'd ever heard him.

"What if I can't get in anywhere?"

"Noah…"

"No, seriously, Berry." He looked back up at her now as he cut off her pep talk before she could even get started. His eyes were a fierce green all of a sudden, and his voice had a bit more edge on top of resignation and sadness as he continued. "You wanted to talk about this, so let's talk. About how my grades have sucked for the majority of high school, and how I have more fucking disciplinary notes than anyone else in our school's history, for real shit too: vandalism and getting caught with drugs and fighting. Oh and, yeah, that's right, I even spent six weeks in juvie because I tried to steal a damn ATM. And that's just the stuff that can be gotten to easily by browsing my "permanent record," or whatever the fuck it's called. Let's not forget I've also been the douche who knocked up his best friend's girlfriend when we were both 16, and was the asshole who tossed kids in dumpsters for years, and threw slushies in people's faces because I was so fucking full of myself even though I had no right to be. God, I _shouldn't_ get into college. I don't belong there. Quinn was right last year, I'm a Lima Loser. It's inevitable or fuck-ever. So I may as well skip this college application shit and at least be a loser on my own terms…"

He'd gotten increasingly aggravated during his diatribe, before finally slumping into pure self-loathing, with maybe even a little self-pity thrown in, towards the end.

And Rachel had never, not even through the years of slushies and mocking, felt the itch to slap him so fiercely.

"Now you listen here, right this second, Noah Puckerman. I would not tolerate anyone else speaking about you like that in my presence, and I certainly am not going to accept such comments from you about yourself. You are NOT a Lima Loser, do you hear me? You never have been and you never will be. I will readily admit that you have not been perfect by any means. Yes, you've done reckless, irresponsible, even dreadful things. But things are different now. You've changed, you've grown. And all that stuff? That's not_ you_ anymore, and actually, for the record? I don't believe it was ever really _you_ at all."

She was honestly surprised when her profession of belief in my only seemed to frustrate him more, as he turned his body more towards her and leaned forward, speaking vehemently.

"Of course you don't believe it, because _you_ are amazing! And you just sit there, being amazing, and assume that other people have something worth your time, something worth _anything_, inside them. And you always seem so sure of it that it's easy for the rest of us to believe it for awhile too. But it's not always true, Rachel. And just because you believe in me, doesn't mean I deserve it. Doesn't mean I'm worth it."

She opened her mouth quickly to refute his self-deprecating nonsense again, but he held up his hand to ask to continue and when he did his shoulders were sagging a little deeper. "Look, I know you are just trying to help and everything, but I can't do this college stuff, okay? I just can't. Because I can't think of a single fucking thing that'd make me feel worse than trying really hard to get out of here, to actually think I could get out of here, only to fail and find myself still stuck in Lima, forever, ashamed and miserable."

There was a beat, where she was honestly stunned, as his words fell to silence and his eyes locked on the tabletop. She'd never considered that he thought that way about himself, that he thought he couldn't get out of here. She'd known, of course, that most of his swagger and bravado was exaggerated, if not a blatant lie, and mostly offered up on matters of his physical strength and appeal any way. But she'd never dreamed that Noah Puckerman had such crippling doubts about himself.

And it was all so ridiculous.

Before she knew it, her annoyance at his reluctance to try and his unwarranted certainty of his own defeat had straightened her back and narrowed her eyes.

"That is all, excuse my language, bullshit. And, for the record, I'll deny using that word from this moment on, but it applies here better than anything else I could think of."

His eyes widened, almost in amusement, before he rolled them again. "Awesome, now not only am I bound to fuck up my own life, but hanging out with me has apparently ruined your vocabulary. Great influence I am."

"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself! You are smart, Noah. Yes, your grades haven't always been existent, let alone high. But considering how much class you've skipped, how little you've tried or paid attention or participated in the past, the fact that you managed to catch up enough to receive the marks you are getting now shows how much intellectual ability you have. You just had to start using it. And, I am positive, that the SAT scores you should receive soon will only support this point further."

She inhaled deeply as she forcefully shoved the brochure from Miami University in Oxford into his hand.

"Now, you are going to have that read cover to cover in the next 20 minutes or you will not get dinner, do you understand?" She ignored how that pulled a disbelieving scoff from him and continued, "I am a very busy young woman and have decided to allot much of my precious time to helping you secure the happiest possible future and I will be severely displeased, Noah, if I find that time is being wasted because you are too shortsighted to see how thoroughly amazing _you_ are."

He just stared at her a long moment, eyes clouded and intense, forcing her to huff and snap at him again. "Read, Noah."

Without a sound he opened the booklet.

A few hours later, after he'd narrowed down the stack to his top five schools, and made a list of admission requirements for each, and they'd compromised and watched a few episodes of _Mad Men_ as they ate, she grabbed both of their empty plates off the coffee table to take into the kitchen. She heard him shut off the television and come in behind her, watching as she rinsed the dishes, clearly wanting to say something but fighting himself with silence.

She slowly turned off the water and dried her hands on the small towel hanging to the side of the sink. For so long now, most everything between her and Noah had been easy. The way they made each other laugh, or drove each other crazy. The way she demanded he step up and he required that she calm down. They'd found such a great balance in the last few months, and in so many ways, she wasn't sure anyone else in her life got her quite like he did. But things were changing again, and she knew he could feel it too. Something was shifting, and while his ridiculous self-doubt about college didn't have anything to do with it really, his reluctance to tell her, his explosion when she brought it up, did.

There were things there, below the surface, that were threatening the balance she'd come to cherish between them, that she'd come to depend on. And it scared her to think she might lose it, and him.

She turned to face him, leaning against the counter, and forced a smile onto her face. And the tiny one he offered back from his place, leaning against the doorframe, was sad.

"I'm sorry I'm an ass."

She couldn't fight the laugh that burst out, mostly as an indelicate snort; that was not exactly what she was expecting him to say.

"I don't think you are, Noah. Sorry, that is. I believe you put a concerted effort into being an… well, you know. You brag about it frequently, usually with the word "bad" in front of it."

He shook his head like she didn't understand something basic and obvious.

"There's a difference between being a bad ass and being an ass, Berry."

"Are you sure? Because it all seems like male ego postulating nonsense to me."

"Stop pushing me off topic with your baiting, woman. One day you'll understand the validity of badassery and will then have to respect that I am, in fact, an expert in it. But regardless, I'm really trying to apologize here, Berry, so can we shove off the banter a sec?"

Taken aback by the abrupt pleading in his tone, she just nodded.

"I just, I know my attitude sucks a lot of the time, and I wish that wasn't the case, or that I at least didn't make you have to deal with it, but I'm around you a lot so whatever, you know that I'm an ass, even if you won't use the word. But I don't want you to ever think I'm not grateful. For you putting up with my shit and actually thinking I'm worth somethin'. 'Cause I do appreciate it. So, yeah, I'm sorry about earlier or whatever. And I want you to be right about me, you know. I _want _to prove you right."

Rachel had to blink back a tear as she pushed herself off the counter and made her way to give him a hug, at the last minute opting to throw in a kiss on the cheek before whispering into his shoulder.

"You will, Noah. Rachel Berry is never wrong."

!

So, Rachel Berry had been wrong.

She'd thought, naively, after the recent win at the school board, that she had faced the pinnacle of pressure, and survived it, and that everything else, for the rest of her life possibly, would seem like smooth sailing by comparison.

Added upon by the sense of triumph she felt in the overall reworking of her entire social life in just a few months, and she truly thought, at this point, that she could literally handle anything.

But she'd been wrong.

As the amount of prep time standing between New Directions and their Regionals showdown continued to shrink, the calendar now a constant reminder that this was their last shot, last chance, to give the club credibility, and life beyond this year, well, the stress of it was really starting to get to her.

She couldn't stand the thought of losing again.

And the idea of losing again to Vocal Adrenaline was especially nauseating.

Throw in the lingering guilt of sending Vocal Adrenaline their post-Jesse secret weapon by way of a crack house (albeit, an inactive one), and Rachel was really starting to panic.

Which is the only possible explanation as to why she'd allow herself to be talked into sneaking into a Vocal Adrenaline rehearsal (again) to get a better look at the competition. Seriously, she knew nothing good could come from it, still she agreed to go without hesitation.

It had actually been Santana's idea this time, brought up at lunch (with a little zest of Spanish profanity thrown into the mix when describing their arch rivals from Carmel High) after Artie'd mentioned that they hadn't bothered to "funkify" New Directions this year.

Surprisingly, Tina had jumped on board almost immediately.

Unsurprisingly, Puck also was up for "a little B & E…Mission Impossible style."

(Even though Rachel explained no breaking was actually necessary. And Santana called him stupid.)

Finn and Quinn wanted in on the plan at the last minute too, even though the latter repeatedly informed the former that he was incapable of being sneaky and tried, unsuccessfully, to talk him out of it.

The next thing she knew, Rachel sat, dressed in black (Puck insisted it was a "badass requirement for stealth" and everyone quickly realized appeasing him on this point was a small price to pay to shut him up about it) in the front seat of Kurt's SUV (which he'd begrudgingly loaned them) while Quinn, who'd also gone on the last mission in, outlined how they were going to make it to their intended viewing spots without detection.

It was about 8:15 when Santana parked two blocks down form the rival school, and was just dark enough that Rachel felt a fleeting thrill of mischief as they snuck, as discreetly as a group of six people could, across the main school lot and into the side door on the opposite side of the building as the theater.

Climbing up the stairs on the far side of the building in order to reach the balcony level without having to try and sneak passed the main doors of the auditorium, they moved, two at a time down the hall, as lightly on their feet as possible. Or, at least the girls did. Rachel thought if Noah or Finn were actually trying to be light on their feet it was sort of sad the degree to which they both were both failing.

Once they'd crossed the building and made it to the back entrance of the auditorium's lighting booth, Tina, armed with her phone in hand, took up post as a look-out, in order to text if she heard anyone approaching.

Quinn then nodded at Santana and Puck to make their way into the booth, where they'd be able to see through the small window the lighting technicians used to monitor during plays. She then motioned to Rachel and Finn to follow her down into the seats.

Easing the door open, Quinn took her spot in keeping the door slightly ajar with her foot. They wouldn't risk the sound of the door shutting giving them away until they were on their way out. Immediately upon entering, they heard the muffled tones of Dustin Goolsby barking out orders.

Motioning for Finn to stoop as low as possible, Rachel led him down a few aisles to the first ledge break, and then kept crouched low to get a better view around the side of it.

As Finn leaned in from his spot behind her to peer around her shoulder at the performance getting started below, she could feel the heat of his breath hitting her neck and could smell his shampoo and thought, for the first time, the worst part of this entire idea may not have been how much trouble they'd all be in if they got caught.

It was difficult to be so close to Finn. And yet, at the same time, it was also the easiest thing in the world.

Still, she resisted the urge to lean back into him slightly, and forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

The intro to Mariah Carey's "We Belong Together" was being handled acapella-style, in what Rachel could only assume was a direct attack on Blaine and the Warbler's impressive no-instrument-style. It sounded good, she hated to admit, but when Sunshine took center stage, she felt her heart plummet further in her chest.

(And not just because she could feel Finn tense when the lyrics started, as if he too thought the song selection was a sadistic twist of fate at the moment.)

Rachel leaned forward as the diminutive singer got further into the piece, and began to really show off her talents. Somehow, she was even better than Rachel remembered, and the notion instantly put tears of shame and regret back into her eyes.

What had she done, sending Sunshine away?

She now knew and felt love for glee, for every single person in it, to a deeper degree than at the start of the year. If she'd cost them Regionals, cost them the club, with her selfishness… The fact that they'd already forgiven her would have no bearing on the fact that she sincerely doubted she'd really be able to forgive herself.

As if sensing her regret and sadness, Rachel felt Finn lean in even closer somehow, putting his lips right to her ear to whisper over the impressive note Sunshine was dragging out to fill the room. "She's not you, Rach. She's good, but she's not you."

Rachel's breath sucked in at his words, at how, even in a whisper, she could hear how much he meant them, how much he meant _by_ them. And while she wasn't so sure she believed them, knowing he did eased some of the tension that has been clogging her throat and squeezing her heart.

Before the song had completely faded to quiet, she felt the vibration of her phone in her pocket, shifting slightly and ignoring the hitch of Finn's breath her movement caused, she reached for her phone and scrambled to read Tina's message.

"Janitor sounds close. Better hurry."

She motioned with her head towards the door, and Finn nodded. Quickly they scrambled, while still keeping both quiet and low, back up to the door where Quinn was waiting, her look screaming, "Come on!"

Easing the door shut behind them, Rachel was grateful when it only gave a soft thud as it closed. Finding Santana and Puck already at the ready, the six gleeks took off at a run back towards the way they came in, hearing the jangle of a janitor's keys around the corner just as they made it to the stairs.

Once they'd made it safely to the car, mostly out of breath, laughter filled the car as Quinn and Tina giggled together at how covert-ops they'd been and Santana teased Finn that he'd been "surprisingly stealth for an overgrown oaf" – which, somehow, they all knew she meant as a true compliment.

Rachel, while relieved enough that they'd made it to smile, still couldn't completely shake her increased nerves at hearing what they were up against.

And she couldn't entirely shake the feeling of Finn's proximity either. She was glad they'd gotten to be on such good terms, but it was getting harder to remember why she thought they needed space.

"Okay, so what'd you guys think?" Tina asked, wanting the full report now that they were on the road and the laughter had subsided.

"Their choreography is still flawless. Bitches." Santana eyes narrowed as she eased Kurt's SUV onto the highway.

"And I'm annoyed they are going sans instruments," chimed in Quinn. "When Dalton does it, it's charming. When they do it? Just a bunch of megalomaniacs showing off. Don't worry though, Tines. They are good. But we're better."

"Shit yeah, we're better. We have Berry. And Mercedes. And now with Kurt back? Those punks can't touch us. Not this year."

Rachel found Noah's eyes in the rearview mirror and shot him a grateful smile.

Of course, she couldn't help but roll her eyes when he added, "So…burgers now? All that sneaking around has me fuckin' starving."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Thanks to all those still reading. I did my best to get this next update out as quickly as possible (two updates in less than 48 hours – woo hoo!), and it's a bit of an important chapter, so I really, really hope people like it. Especially the last section, as I've been planning that scene out in my head since February.

(Oh, and when I first brought up "We Got The Beat" three or four chapters ago, I had no idea they'd actually be using that one on the show. Hearing it on the promos made me wonder, just for a second, if I, like Rachel Berry, was kind of psychic.)

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

!

"Great, guys. Really. Let's just go through it one more time and then we can take a bit of a break, alright? From the top."

Artie rolled himself speedily into place at the edge of the stage, as hidden as possible in shadow for the start of the song, Sam and Puck at his sides.

Finn started up on the drums, and suddenly the adrenaline was coursing through Artie's veins, the high he always got from performing making everything louder, brighter, better. Though he could only see a blur of movement in his periphery, he'd watched them run through the opening choreography of "We Got The Beat" often enough that he could visualize every step being taken as Brittany came forward, Santana and Quinn flanking her and bouncing in unison as they swished and kicked and flipped, while Kurt paired with Rachel, and then Mike with Tina, did a series of spins, twists, and turns, like something right out of a 50's sock hop. He bit his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot as his girlfriend's voice carried over the music, filling him with pride with how sure and strong she sounded.

_"See the people walking down the street, Fall in line just watchin' their feet._

_They don't know, where they wanna go,_

_But they're walking in time..._

_They got the beat, They got the beat_

_YEAH!_

_They Got -"_

Suddenly the lights shifted and Artie's face hardened with practiced "bad attitude" as he screeched out, _"THUNDERSTRUCK!"_

He noticed that Finn's drum beat shifted smoothly, ever-so-slightly, as Sam, Puck, and the newly lit up Mercedes and Lauren on the other side of the stage's edge, all started a chorus of "Aahahahahahahaha"s and "Thunder!"s, while the former Go-Go singers in the middle of the stage shifted into formation, each with their right foot pounding against the stage to accentuate the appropriate beats. He smirked around the lyrics, rolling his chair along the front of the stage as he sang for their coach and an invisible, but undoubtedly captive, audience of thousands that he heard singing along in his head.

He wouldn't admit it to anyone but Brit, but he kinda loved getting to pretend he was some sort of hardcore rock star as he belted out the AC/DC classic. Usually his brief turns in the spotlight were more in the R&B or Hip Hop arenas (which he did love), but make no mistake, Artie Abrams knew how to rock.

As they got a little further in, to the portion where the songs started to blend more intricately, lyrics mashing line by line, he found himself center stage with Brittany beaming down at him, singing prettily, and impressively, considering how fast-paced her simultaneous dancing had to be.

It was all passing so fast, and he could feel them nailing it, and yet he never wanted it to end. This feeling, of loving what he was doing and all the people he was doing it with, was so special. He knew it was rare for a 17-year-old to feel this kind of self-certainty, this elation and pride, and rush of connection. And he was so grateful that he was a part of it.

Hell, in this moment he was right at the center of it.

They all fell in a single line for the finale of the piece, and he was singing literally with every little bit of oomph and enthusiasm, and talent and power, that he had inside him. He heard Rachel and Mercedes' voices soaring up and over them all in perfect harmony, he could pick out the lower, near-percussion sounds rumbling out of Puck and Sam, the solid backbone of the songs as they wrapped it all closed. Finn was next to him now, finally out from behind the drums, and the tall boy's eyes closed tight as he sang out with his everything, and Brittany's hand was warm, tightly wrapped around Artie's own, as her sweet voice held on.

There was an abrupt and dramatic stillness as everyone's voices all cut off at once and the instruments all stilled. And the whole world that was that auditorium paused for just a second before Will Schuester was out of his seat, clapping rapidly and shaking his head in what Artie chose to interpret as overjoyed awe.

"How was it, Mr. Schue?" Mike asked for them as their coach made his way to stand nearer the stage, though Artie thought they all kind of already knew.

"That was perfect, Mike. Actually perfect. That was the cleanest run through I've ever seen you guys do, of anything, ever. And considering how complicated the choreography was in places, and how careful we had to be with the song overlap...I'm just, totally wowed. You all were amazing. I've never been prouder."

There was a mumbled round of "thank you"s.

As they broke off for their much needed 15-minute rest period, Artie spied Rachel climbing demurely off the stage calling after their instructor, stating she had a few added harmonies for their closing group number she wondered if he'd consider.

Everyone else was lazily sucking down water or Gatorade, but Rachel didn't need or want a break. Artie shook his head at the fact that the tiny little brunette never rested. He knew for a fact she'd been in the auditorium for a full half-hour that morning warming up before any of the rest of them even arrived. Puck even had told him that she had a binder at home with countless songs she'd thought of suggesting for the competition, each mapped out with parts divided, harmonies added, initial choreography outlines, and even still she was adding ideas for future use every day, now that this competition's set list had been decided.

In the not too distant past, Rachel's drive, her determination and unwavering dedication, used to grate on Artie. He actually had a difficult time pinpointing why it bothered him so much, aside from the obvious annoyance they'd all suffered when she'd start being bossy and high strung. After all, he d_id_ want to win. He _did_ want to be the best he could be. And he respected that, if nothing else, Rachel was beyond talented. Yet, for being such an easygoing guy, he'd often felt a wall between himself and Rachel. He was less patient with her, less understanding.

And while he was now glad that wall had fallin' down, crumbled thoroughly, Berlin-style, he had to wonder what his problem had been.

The best he could come up with was jealousy.

He was a good singer. A great one, maybe. Rachel was still better.

They both wanted to stand out. But Rachel had the nerve to actually demand it.

They were both teased, tormented, mercilessly, for years and he'd allowed it to force him into a shell of self-doubt and introversion. Anywhere outside of his home, and the few places at school, like the A/V club or Jazz band, where he felt at ease, he immediately surrendered to meekness at the first sign of confrontation.

Rachel Berry had never once cowered, or at least not for any of her tormenters to see.

They both had big dreams. But unlike him, she never doubted for a second that she'd reach hers.

It had been hard not to envy her confidence, since he himself had often been unable to muster up any himself.

But, things change.

It was obvious _she_ had, though maybe by not as much as it initially appeared. Mostly, he knew from recently unbiased observation, and the fact that Finn and Puck had a tendency to let things slip, that the generous, funny, sweet Rachel of late had actually been already part of the real Rachel all along.

But it was kinda like hearing a big band playing in high-fidelity audio for the first time. (Yeah, he was an A/V geek, whatevs.) Where the strings you'd never noticed before were no longer overpowered by the brass or the percussion?

They'd just needed better acoustics, balance, clarity… so they could hear those other parts as clearly as the drive and confidence and the talent.

At any rate, things were clearer now. After working with her on the anti-bullying proposal, after witnessing her work, tirelessly, all semester to see every single club member get a shot at doing something big, at being the star, himself included, his view of Rachel Berry was totally different. He finally _let_ his view of her be different. And at this moment, Artie Abrams sipped his CapriSun and watched Rachel explain a few notes on her sheet music to Mr. Schue, and he figured _when_ they won this thing, it'd be the task-master attitude and unyielding dedication (that he used to resent) of the ever-ambitious Rachel Berry they'd all have to thank.

!

She found him leaning against his truck in the parking lot, and knew beyond a doubt he was waiting for Rachel to finish up her meeting with the Jazz band kids who'd be helping out at Regionals.

Santana rolled her eyes and pursed her lips with disapproval at the thought.

Just because she too suddenly found herself surprisingly pro-hobbit these days, did not mean she suddenly thought love-sick-lap-dog was a good look on Noah Puckerman.

It _so_ did not go with the mohawk.

She was butting into this whole situation as much to avoid the eye-sore of his increasing patheticness as to help out the true friend she'd always secretly had, though probably rarely deserved, in Puck.

She didn't want him to hurt more than he had to, but she also didn't think she could stomach it if she caught him gazing longingly at the tiny brunette one more time.

Sidling up to him in the way that she knew made her Cheerios skirt do dangerously alluring things to her legs, she eased a smirk into place and held out a piece of paper to him.

He quirked an eyebrow at her before looking down at the sheet, and when his eyes returned to hers there was a bit of confusion in them.

"It's a list of appropriate flower choices for my corsage. We're going to prom together, and while I will not demand you pay for _everything_ since this is just as friends, I'm not buying my own damn wristlet."

She watched as he shifted, suddenly appearing nervous. It looked even more wrong on him than love-sick. "Actually, San, I was planning on-"

"No." She cut him off with a bit of extra volume and a clipped tone. "Puck, you can NOT take Rachel Berry to prom. So don't even say it."

He practically growled as he rolled his eyes at her. And she was a little annoyed at how freaking dramatic he was getting. "San, I thought you were passed this shit. I don't give a damn about my repu-"

"Uh uh." Again, she talked over him in such a way that had him both pissed and abruptly silent. "Listen to me. This has nothing to do with how, in a matter of, like, a month, you fell down five full flights on the coolness staircase. I'm about to drop a mostly selfless intervention on you, so yous best listen, okay? Mama Sans don't usually dish free advice."

The expression he wore as he waited expectantly was sour, almost as if he was bracing himself to be either furious or heartbroken.

"Prom, as ridiculous as it is, has all sorts of romantic implication, K? And you, as the now obvious and pitiable love-puppy you've become of late, would eat all that dimly lit eye-gazing crap up in a heartbeat if you thought for a second she'd play along. But she won'ts, Puck. She's not ready, if she ever will be. So you'd go and you'd be "just friends" and you'd let her dance with whoever and you'd say snarky shit all night to make her laugh, but every time her eyes would leave your face for a second, you would look like someone beat the shit out of you and stole your truck…and then, like, broke your Xbox or something."

He sighed, heavily, and it sounded annoyed, but he didn't fight her on a single point so she kept going.

"I don't want to see you like that. In fact, if I did, I would probably have to go all Lima Heights adjacent on your ass to make it stop before I vomited. And I've known you this long without ever pulling a razor blade on you…I'd like to keep it that way." She quirked an eyebrow a little as if to dare him not to believe her threats.

"Plus, I don't want to watch _her_ gets eaten up by all the icky guilties just because she can't give you what she doesn't have."

She rolled her eyes as he had the nerve to look confused.

"Her heart, you fucking moron." At that he finally looked like he might have something to say in protest but she was too far in to stop now. "No, it's true. I've seen you two together, and you aren't imagining it. Okay. There's a lot of 'could-be' there and if you'd have gotten there first? It'd be a whole other ball game. But you and I both know she was swoonin' for Mr. Potato Head while you were still throwin' slushies in her face. She gave it all to him before you even joined the race, and I'm sorry, but I don't think you can catch up now. And no matter what a tool he has been, you know she's already forgiven him. Just like she was able to forgive you and me."

Santana noticed as the muscles rippled in his cheek, as his shoulders tensed, as he looked up, gaze hard, over her head into the vacant space of the sky, and she knew he had to be feeling four thousands things at the moment, none of them good.

Not too long ago, he'd dished out a little tough love with her. She could guess he was pissed to hear these things from her now, but she was honestly just returning the favor.

"Fine. I'll take you to fucking prom, San. But I…" his eyes found hers and the edge in them disappeared. "I'm not ready to totally bow out just yet."

She forced a playful smirk onto her face. "I know. You've always been a little slow. But cheer up, prom with me won't be that bad. At the very least you know our pictures are going to be super hot. And I'll bring my flask."

He smiled a little, though it was obviously forced. "You always do." He shook his head then, as if to clear all the thoughts she'd forced on him. "You know, while I kinda hate you a little bit at the moment, I'm still, for the record, glad you've stopped being such a wicked bitch to her."

Santana gave a slight but genuine smile and shrugged at that. "I'm pretty sure they drugged me."

He laughed, just a little, and shook his head.

"No, seriously, one minute I was there, playing nice-ish just for Brit, and then one of the Mr. Berries gave me a brownie. Next thing I know, I'm, like, talking to the midget and the urge to play a quick round of Make-Berry-Cry had all but left me entirely. Was fuckin' weird."

He laughed again, a little harder, and Santana was relieved. She knew she couldn't stop him from getting his heartbroken, but at least she could maybe keep him laughing along the way.

Them damaged-goods-types had to stick together.

!

Mike Chang was running late.

In fact, he was running. Period.

It seriously felt as if he was living his life at a sprint lately, with so much to do all at once.

Regionals was just four days away.

Then the next weekend was prom.

He and Sam had qualified for State in doubles for Tennis, which would be the following weekend, and was kind of a big deal since there was the possibility of some college scouts being around.

And then there was just two more weeks after that before Nationals, provided they made it. And then, of course, since school actually involved real classes too, there'd be exams to prepare for and take.

It was a good thing Tina and he were in glee together or, at this point, he may never see her.

Which, was kind of why he was running late. Rachel's rigorous last minute prep schedule had them putting in long hours, not that anyone was complaining this time around – now more than ever, each and every one of them wanted to do whatever it would take to keep the club around – but the fact remained that he and Tina had been so busy they hadn't had an actual date in forever. Meaning, he actually hadn't had the chance to even ask her to prom yet.

He knew she knew they were going. As she went with all the other glee girls shopping two weeks back, and mentioned she'd been leaning towards a navy blue dress in case he wanted to get a new tie.

Still, he didn't want her to think he took it for granted that she would just want to accompany him to this clichéd rite of passage. He didn't want her to think he ever took_ her_ for granted at all. So he did want to formally ask. With flowers. Over dinner. Like a good boyfriend would.

So this plan was being squeezed into the only free 45-minute break he had between tennis practice and their nightly run through for glee this entire week. Which was now.

Bolting into the boy's locker room after practice, planning to take the world's fastest shower, he came to an abrupt halt just in time to not run directly into Timothy Powers.

Who Mike, after hearing about the kid's run in with Tina before the school board meeting, considered his least favorite person in all of Ohio. Maybe the entire Midwest.

"Whoa there, Chang." The other boy's voice was way too friendly considering their history. "What is the rush? Does your little glee club have a big fancy dress rehearsal or something?"

Mike's eyes darkened. "Really, Tim, you should remember to be careful what you say anymore."

The hockey player put on a face of faux-indignation. "Did you take some sort of insult from what I said, Mikey-boy? I mean, it _is_ a glee club, is it not? And it is _little_, in that you only have, what, the exact number of people needed to compete? I thought it was a fair, honest description. I meant no disrespect."

"Did you mean any disrespect when you cornered my girlfriend a few weeks ago?" Mike shot back quickly, voice hard.

Tim let out a smug and over-confident laugh. "She told you about that did she? Well, I'm sorry about all that Chang. I just hadn't realized how pretty your girl was until I saw her up close. No wonder you're so protective of her. And, you know, I bet she really is a great….uh, _singer_."

Mike saw through the waggling eyebrows to the innuendo Tim was laying out and had to curl his hands at his side to resist immediately lashing out. Tim was playing a careful game. Everything he'd said, on the surface, was amiable. His words themselves weren't the insult, it was his meaning, and he'd yet to make an actual threat. He was tiptoeing along the lines of the code of conduct to keep Mike against a wall. And they both knew it.

Narrowing his eyes, all Mike could do was nod. "She is. She is both beautiful and talented, I'm a really lucky guy."

Tim smiled triumphantly at how helpless a reply Mike seemed to give, but it quickly faded as Mike continued, his voice lowering a little dangerously, though he kept a smile on his own face. "And because I know I'm so lucky, I'd literally do most anything for her. Fancy dinners, expensive presents, sappy movies. I watched the _Notebook_ last weekend without complaint. You know," Mike stepped forward, just a little closer to the other boy. "If it came down to it, I'd even get willingly expelled… or something crazy like that… if it meant keeping her safe. It's weird, how much the right girl can be worth to you." Mike shook his head a little to himself before shrugging. "But that's life with women. Am I right, Tim?"

Mike felt a small bit of satisfaction as he watched Tim step back slightly. Apparently, he'd been underestimated by the hockey player, always having been known for being quiet, non-confrontational. But two could play the walk-a-fine-line game and he meant what he said. If he honestly thought that puckhead, or anyone else for that matter, would lay a finger on Tina, he wouldn't care if he got kicked out for fighting, he'd just make damn sure he got the other guy kicked out too.

Recovering from his surprise, Tim let out a forced chuckle. "Yeah. Women."

Mike smiled, fake and too wide. "Well, it was great talking to you, but I actually do have to meet Tina for dinner so…. I'll see you around."

He clapped a hand on Tim's shoulder as he passed, in a friendly gesture that may have just held a bit more force than would be normal.

But Mike was pretty proud of himself for not slugging the asshole.

!

Finn stood just off to stage right, watching intently as all three of his ex-girlfriends giggled at something with Mercedes as their last 15-minute break of the night rehearsal was winding down.

It was still bizarre, despite how often he encountered the sight lately, to see Quinn and Rachel, and even more bizarre, Rachel and Santana, so close and friendly. Once upon a time, he was grateful when they could go a full week with mostly ignoring each other, as that was the best things had ever got between them. Until, like, a month ago.

But he did like this development, even if it kinda made him uncomfortable.

Finally, Mr. Schue interrupted the several conversations going on as the group lazed about around the auditorium and called them all back to the task at hand.

They'd already been through Artie and Brittany's mash-up twice, and the group number was solid, though they'd probably run through it once more before the night was over, but first Mercedes had asked to work on her solo a bit. She wanted to try out a few different variations she and Rachel had co-developed, and Mike Chang actually had some ideas for subtle background choreography for the piece he wanted to try out with Brittany.

Most the club members filled the row in front of the stage, with Puck sitting on the stairs off of stage left to be in line with Artie who's chair was parked at the bottom. Swiftly before the music started, Finn was surprised when Rachel scurried to stand beside him at the curtain's edge, rather than follow Quinn down towards the seats.

At first, as Mercedes began singing, Finn was in such awe that he _almost _forgot Rachel was standing so close to him, unexpectedly, and totally by choice.

Almost.

One songstress was killing it on stage, and making it look like the easiest thing in the world, but after she'd belted out the last verse and was working her way back through the chorus, he felt another's eyes on him and, while feeling a slight blush on his cheeks under her inspection, turned his head towards her, slightly, with a smile and a question.

"What?"

Rachel's expression, that was warm but largely thoughtful, suddenly broke out into a wide smile that made her cheeks rosy. "I just…as intimidated as I was after we went to you-know-where and spied on you-know-who…"

Finn had to stifle a laugh at how secretive she was being. He knew they couldn't full out confess that they'd spied on Vocal Adrenaline to Mr. Schue without unpleasant consequences, but he kinda suspected their coach already knew anyway. Besides, Mr. Schue was half the room away at the moment, full attention on Mercedes.

And it wasn't as if the place was bugged or whatever by the show-choir police.

He didn't think.

Whatever, he was pretty sure there was no point in being so hush-hush about the whole thing right now. But Rachel kinda liked secrets, he knew. Or at least, ones she was in on anyway.

He shook his head a little to remove his amusement at her quirky Rachel-ness so he could listen to what she was saying.

"…after this week, I just really believe we _are_ the better show choir. Last year, I _wanted_ to place. I _wanted _to win. And we were good, _really_ good, and undoubtedly robbed by Aural Intensity at least. But, seeing the Vocal Adrenaline performance while the rest of you were at the hospital? Depending on what criteria the judges gave the most weight to…? Let's just say I had to concede we may not have been the club that came out on top from all possible angles. But this year?" She bumped her shoulder against his arm lightly. "Finn, I really think we are going to win this thing."

He looked down into her eyes, wide and as bright as he'd ever seen them, full of so much excitement it kind of reminded him of his four year old cousin eyeing the presents on her last birthday. She was practically bouncing there, right beside him, so sure and hopeful and eager. And he knew, in the back of his mind, where thoughts about glee and competition still existed, he kind of felt the same way. But, for that moment, all he could see or think was _her_, and smile because when she looked at him like that she was just so amazingly beautiful.

It kind of reminded him of how she always looked at him when they sang together,_ to _each other.

And he felt a distinct pang that they hadn't done that in far too long.

Their stare broke then, before he could say a word back to her, as Mercedes finished up the song and Rachel turned her head swiftly to applaud. He was distracted as Rachel scampered off just as quickly as she came to discuss the performance further with Mercedes, agreeing with some note Mr. Schue was giving to Mike Chang on the last lift he'd done with Brittany. He was suddenly too caught up in his own thoughts.

It really had been so long since he and Rachel had sung together, so long since they'd given that special connection they'd always shared through music a chance. And he was determined to change that. As soon as possible.

His eyes scanned the seats to find Kurt, beaming up at Mercedes and shouting out an encouraging accolade. Yeah, and he was definitely going to need his brother's help on this one.

!

Rachel lay in bed, eyes wide and alert despite the late hour, tummy turning in a constant tumble of knots. Her gaze sought out the outline of the two dresses hanging on the back of her closet door, hit just lightly by the softly filtered moonlight, and she found herself releasing a heavy sigh.

The first one, charcoal grey with a pink sash and the slightest bit of gauzy pink tulle peaking out below the full skirt, was for tomorrow. Regionals: The true test, the big showdown.

The second one, a long and sleek gown cut from lavendar satin, was for prom.

She didn't know which event was more responsible for her current insomnia, but she was starting to resent them both for keeping her from her much needed sleep.

Despite Quinn, Tina, and Mercedes having headed home several hours ago, the conversations of their evening were all running on looping replay in her head.

Like how, she'd told them, for the first time in glee history, she was truly, painfully nervous. Not for her performance really, though she had been practicing extra on her complicated couple routine for the mash-up number whenever Kurt could give her a few minutes. Not even for the group's performance truthfully, either. Because she was blown away by how well every single one of her gleemates had been doing and she was confident that the end result was the best they'd ever brought to the judges' table before.

No, she was nervous because this time she saw, really saw, that they had so much to lose. And now that she finally _really _had a grasp on what it meant to be a team, she was devastated to even consider the possibility that it could all slip away.

Quinn tried to assure her that, unlike before Regionals last year, they knew they'd all at least stay friends even without glee. But Rachel didn't want them to _have _to be friends without glee. She didn't want to figure out a new dynamic, she like the current one very much. She didn't want to have Mr. Schue go back to being _just_ their Spanish teacher...how would that even be possible?

Tomorrow was a big deal, a huge deal, and it wasn't that she didn't believe they had a chance to win it...because she did. She _believed_ it. Especially when she heard Mercedes finish another go at her solo, or watched Tina and Mike dancing in perfect sync with matching smiles. She believed it with every fiber of her being.

But she couldn't escape the truth that there was a chance they may _not_ win this thing. And acknowledging that as even being possible broke her heart.

And her heart? Her heart was already a mess.

Bringing up the second crushing weight on her mind.

Somehow, all the prom talk had snuck up on her, and knocked the wind out of her recently.

A few weeks ago the girls had arranged a shopping trip for their dresses, and, of course she had gone. As Quinn gushed about Sam's saving up to take her to the nicest French restaurant before prom, and Mercedes beamed while describing the sweet and nervous way Max had asked her, Rachel had barely even noticed that she had nothing to gush or beam about herself. She'd laughed as they all tried on dresses that made them feel like princesses, and some that made them feel like femme fatales. And one that Brittany liked because it reminded her of cupcakes.

But a few days after that trip, even though she'd brought home a dress (that Kurt had enthusiastically approved after a photo text message from Mercedes), she was still caught off guard as everyone rattled off their detailed plans at the glee lunch table.

She'd been truly surprised when Santana reported that she and Puck would be joining in the special limo Artie'd already reserved for him and Brittany and Mike and Tina. She quickly saw that the arrangement made sense, as Santana would of course want to go along with Brittany, and Puck and San were close, and Puck and Artie and Mike were all "bros" or whatever.

Still, she felt a twinge of disappointment that she later realized was due to her having just expected that she and Noah would go to prom together. As they did most everywhere else.

Then, Mercedes announced that she and Max were going in a limo with a few of the friends he'd made who were seniors.

Sam had rented an old Rolls Royce instead of a limo, to go with Quinn's classic Hollywood starlet of a dress, so the two of them were flying solo.

By the time Kurt joked that if Blaine said no (which everyone knew was a ludicrous thought - Blaine and Kurt were practically inseparable outside of school hours), he'd be begging Rachel or Lauren to be his date, Rachel was starting to panic.

It wasn't exactly like she used to feel, _before_. She wasn't alone again, or suddenly being left out. These people all loved her, enjoyed her presence, and she believed they wanted to dance and take pictures and laugh the night away with her once they were all at the prom itself. But for the first time in months, she honestly wasn't sure what to do or where she belonged for a moment. She seemed to be left to do something all by herself.

And it'd been a while since she'd had to deal with that.

So, immediately after Kurt's comment, when Lauren jumped in that neither she, nor Rachel, were willing to play second fiddle to anyone, not even a cutie like Blaine, and then proceeded to ask Rachel, with an extra bit of Lauren's specialty: wry humor, to be her date? Rachel jumped at it. She wanted a place, she wanted a plan. She didn't want to feel for even a second like the new life she loved was leaving her behind.

She agreed so quickly that she didn't notice, until the plans for Lauren and her to share a limo with Kurt and Blaine were well underway, that Finn sat, to the right of his brother, looking a little defeated.

Suddenly she wondered, even suspected, that her ex-boyfriend had been planning on asking her.

And she also wondered, even suspected, that she might have said yes.

But it was too late now. She couldn't bail on Lauren. And the "what-if" of going with Finn was nothing if not a recipe for drama anyway. Drama they couldn't afford to when they'd hopefully have Nationals to plan.

Knowing all this didn't mean it wasn't still a sensitive topic though.

As their abbreviated pre-Regionals girls night had moved from talk of the competition to what Tina was doing with her hair for the dance, and what Mercedes thought of the friends Max had just introduced her to, Rachel'd been easily distracted by the lavender dress hanging on her door.

Looking at it she couldn't stop feeling the disappointment that Noah, who she may have started taking for granted, would be someone else's entertainment for the night.

Or feeling the disappointment in herself for having hurt Finn, even if on accident, again.

Her and Lauren were great friends, who always seemed to laugh together constantly. And yes, they'd be with Kurt, who was one of her most favorites. And Blaine, who was adorable beyond words.

Yet, she couldn't feel she was attending one of the biggest nights of her high school life with the wrong date.

And even more upsetting, she wasn't entirely sure who the right date was.

!

They were in the home stretch now (a sport's analogy Rachel'd learned the origin of this baseball season, thanks to cheering on Noah and Finn at a few games). But it wasn't over yet.

Vocal Adrenaline had gone first, in what could only be seen as a masterful psychological power play, leaving every single person in the audience on their feet and having reduced the Winslow High Troubadours, who had to directly follow the performance, to motionless statues, sitting with their mouths agape and eyes wide with terror. As she expected, Carmel had performed flawlessly, Sunshine front and center the whole time. And not only had the smaller girl belted out the Mariah Carey number Rachel had already witnessed once, but had then gone straight into a Whitney Houston medley.

(Which, Rachel noticed, caused Mercedes to clench her fists, narrow her eyes, and growl slightly at the audacity. She was apparently a big believer that one shouldn't medley-up "The Whitney." The brief snippets of mutterings Rachel caught from the girl at her side had included the phrase, "Show some respect," several times.)

The Troubadours then took the stage, and were at first visibly shaken, as they started their slightly accelerated take on "California Dreaming." Rachel found they were still worthy competitors despite their fear, and caught a few standout singers who appeared quite young, making a mental note to keep an eye on them especially for next year.

Provided glee still got a next year.

After intermission, New Directions had found their way backstage to watch the Warblers and wait their turn.

She'd hugged Blaine and Grant both before their group took the stage, and giggled into Kurt's shoulder when Blaine looked over and winked at him slyly just before they kicked into an inspired a cappella version of the Pixies' "Where Is My Mind?"

Now, finally, it was their turn and Rachel had that familiar moment when the world went hazy, her mind fell silent, and she waited, breathless, for the music to start, to begin to flow around her, through her, carrying her to someplace else, someplace wonderful.

They started with the mash-up. The energy immediately taking hold of them, and their audience, as their hard work and practice flew them around the stage in a seamless sequence of movement and sound.

She took a moment to watch Finn as he drummed, and delighted in the euphoria she caught on his face. He, and Noah and Sam and Artie, all played around on their instruments frequently in the choir room. Why had they never thought to include it in a performance before? While she knew they were not being judged on their ability to play instruments exactly, it was clear that, as much as Finn loved singing, banging away on the drums pulled him even further into the song.

And the fire it started in him seemed to spread as she felt them all kick it up another notch somehow.

Kurt caught her hand then and pulled her to him, then spun her out, twirled her, lifted her, and she knew that Tina was her precise mirror image, over on the opposite side of the stage, moving in Mike's arms.

With the next musical shift she had a moment to take in Brittany and the other two Cheerios, putting all the perfected grace Sue Sylvester had drilled into them on display, and she thought that, as good as the Vocal Adrenaline dancers were, not a single one of them could hold a candle to the poise or talent those three had.

The gleeks kept on, all moving off instinct to the music they were creating, and in the brief turn she had with Noah, his fingers wrapped lightly around her forearm as they spun, he lifted his eyebrow in a way she understood to say, "We are *expletive* nailing this."

As Artie and Brittany brought the song home, she stood beside Mercedes, their two voices twisting around eachother carefully, climbing ever-higher and blending in a way she thought sounded rich and incredible, before all thirteen of them bowed their heads in unison on the final thump of drum, voices suddenly silenced, hands all linked.

In the few seconds of dim lighting that followed, everyone but Mike, Brittany, and Mercedes moved off the stage, for the solo.

A third of the way done.

The lighting came back up slowly. A spot on Mercedes as she hummed along to the first few bars of intro, while less bright lights found Brittany and Mike in the corner of the stage, where they were facing each other, arms held up at right angles, palm to palm, before clasping hands and rolling into smooth Latin-like footwork, just as Mercedes started pouring out the first verse.

For a moment, Rachel didn't know where to look. The big smiles on the dancers' faces were mesmerizing, as they handed themselves over to doing what they both loved so much, clearly having so much fun. But Mercedes? Rachel thought her friend was undeniably breathtaking at the moment, a silky and delicious warmth radiating out with her voice on each and every note, her control and range showing off her voice for the true instrument it was.

And from the wings, for the last repetition of the chorus, Rachel sang out as the entire club joined in, and felt a chill run down her spine.

"_Let's, Let's stay together. Loving you whether, whether times are good or bad, happy or sad."_

The lights dimmed again as the music faded, and Rachel took a deep breath. It was all moving so quickly still and this was it, less than half left to go.

The drums started for their full group number, Coldplay's "In My Place", and almost immediately Artie joined in with the band, playing guitar, and Rachel peered discreetly around the edge of the corner to see him biting his lip, feeling the haunting and repetitive hook.

Noah's voice broke her focus from Artie, singing the first words as he stepped out from the other side of the stage, "_In my place, in my place_…"

Lauren moved out at the same moment, from where she'd stood beside Rachel, crossing the stage with deliberate steps, to meet Puck as their voices joined in harmony "_Were lines that I couldn't change._"

Then Lauren took the next line on her own as she turned away from him. _"I was lost, oh yeah."_

Rachel watched as Mike and Tina came bounding out next, from the other side just as Noah had, their hands linked as they danced, Mike lifting Tina prettily as she sang out first, _"I was lost, I was lost."_

Then their voices came together, _"Crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed,"_ as the two pulled at one another, moving in opposite directions.

Their hands finally broke as Mike whisper-sang the last words up to the chorus like a confession, and Tina turned away. _"I was lost, oh yeah."_

All four singers then stood at different corners of the stage, voices rising together.

"_Yeah, how long must you wait for it? _

_Yeah, how long must you pay for it? _

_Yeah, how long must you wait for it?"_

Rachel felt something fluttering like butterflies in her chest at the sound, and the sight, of it. It wasn't the bustling of nerves either. It was pride.

It was being moved.

What her friends were out there doing? Was beautiful. And she couldn't wait to join in.

As the instrumentation came around to lead into the second verse, Rachel waited to hear Finn's familiar voice, ready to revel as she always did in how it seemed to wrap around each one of her senses.

But it didn't happen.

Instead she was shocked, entirely thrown, when Kurt stepped out from behind the curtain next, her friend eyeing the now approaching Santana, as he sang the first line that her ex-boyfriend had practiced at every single rehearsal. _"__I was scared, I was scared."_

The proud butterflies suddenly went wild inside her, breaking loose, spiraling out from her heart and belly, dancing up her throat and down each of her limbs. Changing their tune.

Her mind was racing.

Why was Kurt singing Finn's part? _Why?_

She asked the question silently to the universe, though she was afraid she already knew the answer.

(Somehow though, despite her panic, she was able to note that Santana and Kurt's voices did mingle nicely, as their part of the verse continued.)

"_Tired and underprepared, _

_But I'll wait for it."_

She felt Quinn's hand rub down her arm in a fleeting attempt at comfort, in response to her presumably stricken expression, as the blonde passed by. But then Quinn and Sam danced on out for their lines, while Rachel stood fight the frog in her throat.

"_And if you go, if you go, _

_Leave me down here on my own, _

_Then I'll wait for you, yeah."_

Why had Finn done this? What was he trying to prove?

She'd practiced her verse with Kurt. She knew how to sing her part, _with Kurt_.

She knew she _could _sing her part, and not faint under the dizzying weight of memories and love and past heartbreak, _with Kurt_.

But the music kept going, with Kurt and Santana, Quinn and Sam, out there singing the chorus, and the little time she had to pull herself together was ticking away.

"_Yeah, how long must you wait for it? _

_Yeah, how long must you pay for it? _

_Yeah, how long must you wait for it?"_

With a deep breath, Rachel stepped out onto the stage when the right moment came, ever the professional, born a performer.

She did feel her eyes mist with tears though, at the mere sight of Finn, as he too left the shadow of the curtain, crossing towards her, eyes full and pleading. Yes, the show must go on, but she couldn't fight her emotions back completely.

They circled each other, in a way that was so painfully familiar, and almost unbearably symbolic.

And when Finn opened his mouth to sing, Rachel swallowed down her sob at how honestly his face begged, pleaded, along with the lyrics.

"_Singing 'please, please, please_

_Come back and sing to me _

_To me, me_.'"

His stare was intense, it didn't falter, and it was full of hope. In that moment she knew he didn't care about Regionals. About clubs or competitions, their friends on stage or their audience of onlookers.

He only cared about her.

She joined in then, as if adhering to his request, and almost startled at hearing their voices come together for the first time in months.

"_Come on and sing it out, now, now._

_Come on and sing it out, to me, me._

_Come back and sing._"

His hand clasped hers, and she honestly couldn't remember if it was part of the choreography or not. Everything sounded different, looked different, with him in front of her, and she was moving now only by the music, by the moment, and not by memory.

Then most everything else fell away, all but the slightest pull of the strings, and the words found their way up and out of her, her voice clear, loud and full, yet alone, filling the space on its own.

She found she meant what she was singing more than she ever had before.

"_In my place, in my place, _

_Were lines that I couldn't change,_

_I was lost, oh yeah. _

_Oh yeah."_


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Thank you for reading.

Disclaimer: Just playin'. Will return all players and parts, unharmed, to original owners.

The applause sounded so far away, almost like the whir of an airplane high overhead, or the whistle of a train in the distance.

Her hand was clasped and pulled by, judging from the feel of slender fingers and long nails, Santana, as the group rushed through the near-black darkness and off the stage.

Rachel followed on autopilot, barely seeing the way, as New Directions crowded into the tiny dressing room they'd used earlier for warming up, the club settling in to sit and wait on the judges.

There were the sounds of jubilation for a performance well done (a squeal from Mercedes, a "Holla!" from Artie), but it all seemed muted somehow, and Rachel felt many pairs of eyes on her as she moved in silence to the chair farthest from the group, her own gaze trained on her hands in front of her.

Mr. Schue joined in with his praising, his emphatic profession of pride in them, "no matter the outcome."

She knew then that Finn or Kurt must have at least given him a head's up that they were changing things, since he didn't say a word about the surprise re-working of the last number.

Her mind drifted to wonder how long Santana must have known. To wonder whom else they'd told.

(It was easier to let her mind linger on how it happened, then to dare to process how she felt about it.)

Because obviously she was touched. She was buzzing with the feeling of being loved, so much, by someone so wonderful... someone she still longed for and missed down to the deepest parts of herself.

But nothing was ever that simple. She knew that. And she knew Finn had to know that too.

And there was just as much churning in her belly due to confusion and fear and frustration and worry as anything else.

Without looking up she felt someone sit beside her, an arm slipping around her and squeezing her shoulder gently.

Kurt's fingers were smooth and cool, unlike his nervous voice. "Are you furious with me?"

She waited a moment to answer, but it wasn't to make him squirm. She just hadn't thought about it until he asked.

She could feel other eyes still on her occasionally, but the club had at least tried to busy themselves in post-performance conversations to give her and Kurt some privacy in the tiny room.

"Not yet. I might be later."

She didn't look at him, but she knew he nodded.

"I hated keeping it from you. But he appealed to the romantic in me, and it wouldn't have been the bold gesture he was going for if it wasn't a surprise."

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, and didn't say a word.

"If and when you decide to be angry with me, I'll accept punishment gracefully. But please don't blame San at all. We didn't tell her until yesterday, when I had to run through the song a few times with her to be sure we had it worked out. And she made it clear that, if you ended up more hurt over it, or if it cost us Regionals, my dad and Carole would find themselves empty-nesters much sooner than they expected."

Rachel couldn't help but breathe out an almost-chuckle at Santana being...well, Santana.

He was then just quiet for a long moment, moving his fingers lightly against the skin of her arm.

She took a deep breath before finally whispering, "I just don't know what to do with it yet, Kurt."

"I kind of figured."

"I, just...He's made it clear, for months now, that he wanted to move towards a reunion. This was just the first time it was done so dramatically, so publicly. Which you know, usually, I wouldn't mind. I love attention." Kurt laughed a little at the understatement in that, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. "But, while part of me loved hearing him, seeing him, practically begging for me back like that, after once fearing he'd never want me again at all? Another part of me can't forget the fact that he's still never said he actually forgives me, Kurt. And he hasn't ever really said he was sorry, either."

She braved looking up from her hands finally, getting a small sympathetic smile from Sam as he met her eyes first, and then one from Mercedes too.

She glanced with apprehension all around the room, only to note with surprise, and a weird mix of both relief and concern, that Finn was missing.

Oddly, so was Noah.

She sat up straighter, turning her body to face Kurt rather than lean on him.

"I really should be angry with you. For keeping secrets, especially ones that were potentially detrimental to our performance just now." She tried to give him a stern look, but then leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "But I'm not angry. With anyone, really. I'm just…thinking."

!

At the end of their set, which looked and sounded pretty freakin' different than rehearsals had for the last three weeks mind you, Puck hurried off stage, through the lobby, and pushed angrily out the front doors.

He needed fresh air.

(And a beer.)

Sadly however, due to an untimely rainstorm, he had to settle for the not-so-fresh air of the makeshift smokers' vestibule just outside. (And the suspiciously tinted water coming out of the drinking fountain.)

He had the powerful urge to hit something, and it must've been obvious, as some skinny, squirrely-looking kid was eyeing him fearfully while puffing away at a cigarette.

Puck was momentarily annoyed that he no longer threw people into dumpsters.

It was so weird because, up until approximately 4 minutes ago, he'd been having a pretty badass day.

When he'd picked up Rachel that morning, she'd handed him a homemade and delicious breakfast sandwich (claiming he needed "a healthy start to put forth a most energetic performance" or some shit) and a card, sporting sparkling yellow stars, that said, "Break a leg!" in her bubbly cursive and was signed, "XOXO – Berry."

Granted, she'd also given one to every other member of New Directions too. But it still made him smile, alright?

Then, once they'd all boarded the bus at McKinley, he'd found a five-dollar bill on his seat. Which he and Chang agreed was a good omen, and his lunch money, all rolled into one.

Throw in the fact that one of the judges (a socialite trophy wife who was filling in last minute for her rich old husband who contributed generously to the Western Ohio Endowment for the Arts) had winked at him before the competition even got started, and he'd been consequently sure, since long before they took the stage, that they already had this thing in the bag.

Halfway through the last number he still believed that.

But now?

He didn't know what he thought about their odds of winning the competition, because from the moment he realized what Finn was up to, he decided he suddenly couldn't care fucking less about it.

He couldn't decide what emotion exactly had caused Rachel's tears as she stepped out on that stage just now, but remembering the glassy look in her eyes made it hard to catch his breath.

Hudson had either just clenched the whole thing, or he'd managed to hurt her again. Either way Puck was pretty sure punching the guy was the only way he'd get his heart rate back to normal.

He ignored his phone vibrating in his pocket, and stayed out staring daggers at nothing but rain until the smoke in the air (now coming from a middle-aged soccer mom type) began to burn at his throat.

Heading back in, he stopped short at the sight of Finn coming from the opposite direction through the lobby.

Their eyes met and Puck flexed his jaw, waiting with his head cocked back slightly for the taller boy to reach him.

If the guy had come out just to brag, Puck was fairly certain he'd be heading back to juvie tonight for a rather public violent outburst.

"Uh…Hey, man." Finn's voice was hesitant, but the closest to friendly it'd been since November. Even if Puck didn't buy for a second that it was genuinely so. "Mr. Schue asked me to come find you. He wants the whole team together for when the judges are ready."

Puck snorted with a complete lack of amusement. "Oh, so _now_ Schue gives a crap about the whole team? Instead of just letting weeks of preparation go to waste all so the son-he-never-had could get his girlfriend back? Great to know he does remember there are thirteen of us, just in time for the whole fuckin' thing to get canceled."

He knew he was baiting Finn when the guy'd been legit trying (for like the first time) to be civil.

He knew he was totally lashing out at the wrong man by spewing shit about their director, too.

He didn't care.

Finn looked away, his arm shaking a little at his side, and Puck knew it was the result of reigning in the nervous energy. When his former best friend turned back to face him, he was surprised to see that there was no anger there. Only anxiety. And Puck deflated a little, begrudgingly, in sympathy. Sometimes Rachel made him anxious too.

"Look, I get that it was a selfish thing to do, but you don't understand…"

"No, I do." Puck cut him off and his voice was strong, sure, even if the bite in him had gone. "If I thought rearranging things to sing a song with her, at the last minute, in a competition, in front of, like, fuckin' everyone, would somehow improve my shot with her? I'd have done the same damn thing, without hesitation. Screw the outcome. I understand _exactly_ why you did it. I just don't like that you did."

He watched Finn's mouth twist as if he didn't like the taste of what Puck was saying but would swallow it anyway, before the guy simply nodded and turned as if to make his way back towards the green room.

"Hey."

Finn stopped again and faced him, eyes almost blank and lips in a tight line.

"Whether this will be relevant today, or a month from now, or at our fuckin' ten year reunion, I don't know. But at some point, you probably are going to get another chance with her. And I need you to remember one thing when that time comes."

A stoic head nod prompted him to continue.

"Don't take her for granted again, asshole."

Finn blinked at him, but Puck didn't wait for further reaction. He started walking and didn't look back.

!

Perhaps it was because, last time, she'd almost immediately gone into labor at the end of their performance, and thus was a bit too preoccupied with significant amounts of excruciating pain for the duration of the judges' deliberation to notice the minutes tick by, but Quinn Fabray was substantially annoyed currently that this was taking so long.

And she was feeling dangerously on edge for several reasons:

One: She obviously cared about the outcome. They were clearly the superior show choir, so just give them the damn title already.

Two: She was starving. And while that once was a common feeling back in her early days as a Cheerio, she was no longer accustomed to the gnawing ache in her tummy.

And, Three, perhaps the most grating cause for unease: She couldn't stand the awkward silence that had fallen over the group in the last twenty minutes, once Finn and Puck had reappeared, mysteriously together, both silent and sullen.

Finn was now looking at Rachel like a kicked puppy, obviously expecting a reaction for his little stunt that the girl wasn't prepared to give just yet.

Rachel kept glancing at Puck, face full of hurt and concern, not understanding why he had sat as far away from her as he could get and refused to meet her eyes.

Kurt was watching Santana with traces of fear on his face as the girl was glaring at him and making a cut-throat motion with her finger against her neck. (Quinn wasn't sure what that was all about exactly, but it certainly wasn't helping things.)

And most everyone else seemed to be silently steeling themselves for an explosion, all the self-congratulating for their presumed would-be victory silenced.

Quinn felt her patience running out, at an increasing rate as the minutes passed, and was about a nanosecond away from screaming just for the release of it, when the soft but steady voice of her boyfriend shattered the sanity-depleting stillness in a moment of brazen mercy.

"So…this is really uncomfortable."

Every set of eyes flew to Sam, who merely shrugged innocently at the scrutiny, before Quinn couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat at the absurdity of it all, the sound bouncing all over the room.

Once she started laughing, she couldn't stop, and she soon heard the familiar full-body cackle of Mercedes, the twinkling giggle of Tina, the derisive snort Santana used most often, all join her before the rest of the gleeks broke into laughter too.

Mercedes was the first to calm down enough to get words out. "Sam ain't kidding. White Boy," the girl turned to Finn, and Quinn smiled at Cedes' use of the rare nickname, a subtle way of making it clear that she wasn't actually mad at their sweet, if not often misguided, male co-captain. "What the hell were you thinking? This is _Regionals_, Finn. You couldn't have just bought Rach vegan chocolate like a normal person? You're lucky our girl still pulled the song off. Or I'd be far less pleased with you."

Quinn smirked as a crimson blush spread across Finn's face and neck, and he looked down sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, guys. I—"

"It's okay, Finn."

Quinn was surprised by Rachel's voice quieting the apology on their ex-boyfriend's lips, but she didn't try and fight the smile slipping slowly into place as her friend continued. "Though, honestly, it very well might NOT have been okay, obviously, if our set itself would have suffered. But I think, this time, we all still did amazing, despite the twist ending. And I feel we have a pretty good shot of walking out of here with a rather large trophy and another year of glee. So we should be focusing on that right now, and celebrating accordingly, and enjoy a competition drama-free for once."

The brunette looked at Finn with a hopeful smile and eyes that begged for understanding. "Right?"

There was a pause where everyone waited for Finn to accept this, to agree to tabling their personal issues for now, essentially signing off on a return to normalcy for the time being. And when the quarterback nodded, Quinn felt the room move with a collective sigh of relief.

Thank God.

Almost instantly things shifted back to the usual chatter and Quinn thought the growing din sounded like heaven. Santana turning to Brittany to discuss plans for the evening, Kurt bragging to Tina about how debonair Blaine had looked performing, Artie turning to talk with Finn about what it felt like to play along with the band.

Relaxing a little, Quinn was grateful that the club's sense of fun and camaraderie was easily restored this time. So different from Sectionals this year, or last.

She leaned in a bit closer to her boyfriend to whisper in his ear. "Well done, sir."

He looked at her and smiled, and it was so earnest and charming she couldn't resist the urge to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

Snuggling a little closer into his side, she nearly choked on her surprise when he reached into his pocket and offered her a fruit roll-up.

"Want a snack?"

He'd broken the unpleasant tension AND taken on her hunger in only a matter of minutes. If she was a different kind of girl, she might have swooned.

"Sam Evans, I kind of love you." She grabbed at the package quickly, tearing in and placing the sweet pop-out shape of a soccer ball on her tongue.

He was watching her with a mix of shock and amusement…and elation. And she realized what she'd just said.

Quinn blushed a bit but quickly went back to removing the next fruity shape from the roll-up. "Oh don't pretend like you didn't know."

He chuckled, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to her cheek, before turning back to the room. She followed his line of sight to Rachel, where she sat between Mercedes and Lauren, smiling slightly, but obviously uninvested in the conversation around her, sneaking glances at both Finn and Puck every few seconds.

"She's stalling, right?" Sam pulled a packet of crackers from his pocket next and she was distracted for just a second from his question, wondering what else he had in there.

Snapping out of her curiosity, Quinn shrugged the shoulder that wasn't nestled against her boyfriend. "Totally. She's not sure what she thinks, so she's shifting the attention back off herself until she figures it out."

"I do feel bad for the guy."

"Which one?"

Sam sighed. "Good point. Both, I guess. She's going to have to pick sooner or later, right? Not that I'm looking forward to the fallout either way."

"Yeah. I do not envy her at the moment."

"You know, they're both my boys, but neither one of them better think about redirecting their affection back to you after all this."

Quinn pulled back slightly to get a better look at him, and she could see that while he was sort of joking, there was also a slight shimmer of trepidation in his eyes.

"Sam." She said his name so softly to gain his full attention and let him know she was about to be completely serious and revealing. "Finn, Puck, whoever, they wouldn't have a chance. You know that, right? I'm really happy. With _you_."

There was a long beat where they just looked at eachother, and everything about the relief in his eyes warmed her heart. Quinn Fabray had had her share of relationship drama, had her fill of angst and woes, but not anymore. And while she usually hated feeling exposed, despised appearing weak or breakable, as girls in love often did, she didn't mind risking all that for Sam.

A wide and toothy grin stretched across his handsome face. "'Cause you kind of love me, right?"

"Yeah. I do."

!

Tina Cohen-Chang was shaking.

Her eyes darted quickly, taking in the shadowed audience, the back of one of this year's judging committee co-chairs as he spoke into the center microphone about the value of the arts in schools (without an ounce of feeling), Lauren's profile to her side.

She almost couldn't stand it.

She needed to know if they'd won this thing, and she needed to know NOW.

Mike's arm that had been loosely draped around her waist pulled her in tighter as the speaker moved to announce the third place winner, and she was grateful. He might be the only thing holding her up and together at this point.

"…The Dalton Academy Warblers."

She noticed Kurt's shoulder sag a little, disappointed for his boyfriend, and she too felt a twinge of disappointment.

She'd have loved nothing more than for the Warblers to get second, right behind New Directions, with those smug Vocal Adrenaline kids coming in at a distant fourth.

The air in the room started shifting as the applause for the Warblers died down and the remaining choirs seemed to all suck in a giant breath simultaneously.

This was it. If theirs wasn't one of the next two names called, the club was over. The world as she'd come to know it was over.

(Yes, she knew that sounded melodramatic, but Rachel's theatrics were catching.)

"And the Runner-up for this year's 12th Region Show Choir Competition is….Carmel High School's Vocal Adrenaline!"

Tina heaved out a breath, one she'd held apparently a bit too long as her lungs ached a little, and squeezed Lauren's hand. Over the applause she could hear the angry whispers of Dustin Goolsby berating members of his team even as he plastered on a fake smile, all while a terrified looking Sunshine accepted the medium sized trophy on the group's behalf.

Then, the crowd settled once more and she heard Mercedes whisper out a, "Please God."

"Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with great pleasure and pride that I'd like to announce our 2011 Regional Show Choir Champions….."

There was a drum roll and Tina thought she'd like to slap someone for the forcing them to draw out the anticipation.

"William McKinley High School's New Directions!"

Tina heard a near-ear-drum-blasting squeal, only to realize that it was her own as she was swept up into Mike's arm and spun in the air, her boyfriend placing tiny kisses all over her cheeks.

As soon as he set her down, though their hands remain linked, she thrust herself into the screaming bouncing hug-pile of Mercedes-Lauren-Santana, laughing and shrieking.

Forcing themselves to still a little, though their smiles could not be contained, Tina and the team watched as Mr. Schuester stepped forward to shake the head judge's hand, before pushing an eager, and happily tearful, Rachel out to accept the trophy, which appeared to be more than half her size.

As soon as her friend made it back to the team, the madness erupted again as everyone pushed in around Rachel to get a hand on the hardware.

It was such a rush, the adrenaline overwhelming. Tina thought in some ways it all seemed like slow-motion, but in other ways it seemed like the world was spinning around them at breakneck speed.

They were going to have another year.

They were going to New York.

This, Tina though, just may be the best day…ever.

!

"Jeez. Berry, slow down. Aren't you tired?"

"I'm exhausted, Noah, but there is no time to waste. We have significantly less time to prepare for Nationals than we did for Sectionals and Regionals, and while I too would love to laze about and merely dwell in the merriment of our most recent triumph, I will not jeopardize our chances in New York through slothful procrastination."

Her hair was still curled from their performance earlier, but had been thrown back into a ponytail and her face had been scrubbed cleaned. She sat on the floor of her bedroom, comfortably dressed in yoga pants and one of Sam's hooded sweatshirts that she couldn't remember why she even had, and did not spare Noah a glance as she flipped through her numerous folders of sheet music and the rather large binder she'd put together of partially developed performance ideas.

While she was grateful whatever reason he'd had for ignoring her earlier, after he'd disappeared for awhile at the competition, had passed, there was still something off, sad, in his eyes. And she could hardly stand it.

Her mad search for their next set list was as much about distraction as it was preparation.

Five minutes passed, maybe ten, where the only sound was her rustling through and turning pages, but she could feel his stare burning through her the entire time from where he lounged on her bed.

Still, she jumped a little when he finally cleared his voice with a cough and then spoke, his voice unnaturally even.

"You really not going to mention what happened today?"

Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose, before warily lifting her gaze to meet his.

"I'd actually prefer not to talk about it, Noah."

"With me?"

"With anyone."

His long stare was appraising, searching, and she wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for in her expression nor could she tell from the way he sighed and sat up whether he'd found it.

"Okay."

"Okay?" She was relieved he was letting her off the hook for what would have been a tedious and probably fruitless conversation, but she was still surprised at his nonchalance as he settled down on the floor beside her and picked the binder up off her lap.

He turned to her with a quirked brow. "Have I ever really tried to make you do anything you didn't want to do?"

"No."

"Then don't sound so surprised now." He looked back to the book and turned a few pages before shaking his head with a laugh. "Take this one out of here, Berry. There's no way in hell we're doing something by the Spice Girls. Ever. So just, go ahead and recycle this shit."

Immediately she felt a familiar bit of faux-indignation at his words and she thanked him silently for letting her have this, this feeling of normal.

She knew she had stuff to deal with. Important stuff. Heartbreaking stuff. But she just…couldn't yet.

"I will have you know, Noah, that while they sustained a distractingly campy, even outrageous, image, throughout the years of their popularity and commercial success, each and every one of those girls had valid vocal talent."

"I don't care if they had vocal chords of solid gold. This will never happen, so I'm just going to…" he made like he was about to rip the page from her binder and she gasped at his audacity.

"Don't you dare, Noah Puckerman!" She started slapping at his shoulder with one hand while trying to regain the binder from his grasp with the other. "That would be destruction of personal property, vandalism, and I'd hate for you to revert back to your delinquent ways. Now unhand my binder this instant!"

He laughed harder as he fended off her attack easily, holding the binder one handed over her head, out of her reach.

"Nope. I'm not returning this thing until you 1) agree to throw out all the shitty songs we'd get legit disqualified for even considering, and 2) put this crap away so we can go watch Terminator 2 with your dads."

"Noah…" She stretched her arm up as high as she could and huffed in annoyance when it still didn't even brush at the binder in his hand.

"Quit your bitchin'. Those are my terms. So just agree to them before my arm gets tired."

She growled (though she secretly loved how good the frustration felt). "Fine. I'll remove all Spice Girls songs from _current_ consideration." She ignored his scoff at the admission there were multiple Spice Girls songs in the binder. "And we can watch a movie with my dads tonight. But tomorrow, you are helping me sort through my folder of ballads and you will not complain. At all. Do you understand me?"

The corner of his mouth lifted a little. "Deal."

He handed her the binder and quickly stacked the other folders, standing to place them on her desk before he mentioned getting a beverage and made his way out the door to head downstairs.

She smiled when she heard him call back to her from the hallway. "Ace of Base is out too, Berry. I'll quit on your ass before I sing, "The Sign.""

!

"Knock, Knock."

Kurt leaned in his step-brother's doorway, sadly taking in the sight of Finn laying on his bed, staring grumpily at the darkening walls. Offering a sympathetic half-smile when Finn turned to face him, he stepped into the room a little once Finn motioned for him to enter.

"So, I know things today didn't go exactly as you had hoped…"

He rolled his eyes when the look Finn shot him seemed to say, "Understatement of the Year."

"…and I'm sorry you didn't get what you wanted out of it right away. But I," Kurt sighed, fearful of walking such a delicate line between being a good friend to Rachel and a good brother to Finn. "I don't want you to get discouraged, Finn. Don't think just because she didn't immediately fly into your arms, dismissing all the mistakes of your mutual past, that it didn't work, that it didn't touch her. It did. She's just…"

Kurt trailed off, not sure exactly how to put it. He was surprised when Finn's voice, which sounded rough and suspiciously like he might have been crying, supplied the right answer.

"Still not ready."

Kurt nodded.

Finn sighed as he kicked his legs over the side of the bed, pulling himself up to a seated position.

Kurt took that as further invitation to talk and moved himself over to the desk chair to settle in a bit more.

"I just miss her so much, man. All the time. And we've been doing really good lately, as friends and stuff, so I just thought…"

Kurt nodded. He remembered Finn's hesitance when he'd approached him for help, but he also remembered the barely contained excitement below the surface. It had been readily apparent that Finn was hopeful, desperate, for his plan to work.

"At the risk of oversharing that which was spoken to me in confidence…"

Kurt shook his head when Finn just looked confused.

"At the risk of telling you something she'd want me to keep secret?"

Finn's eyes widened with understanding.

"She's mostly worried about repeating the same mistakes. It's not that she doesn't love you. It's not that she doesn't believe you truly love her. She just wants to know that the things that broke you apart the first time..s… won't come back to haunt you again."

Kurt almost startled when Finn jumped in quickly, leaning forward with conviction. "I wouldn't lie to her again. Ever. About anything. I swear."

Kurt nodded reassuringly. "I believe you. And that's a good start. But…," he took a deep breath. "Have you forgiven her, totally and completely? Are you passed it enough to not be jealous, especially around Puck? Do you understand why what you did was so hard on her, even aside from the lying?"

Finn's gaze fell to his hands, clasped in front of him from where his forearms rested atop his knees. When he looked back up, Kurt let out a light gasp at the tears in his eyes.

"That was the hardest part. _I_ got so hung up on the fact that _she_ was hung up on the fact it was Santana. I couldn't make sense of it, and the confusion just frustrated me, you know? On top of just freaking out about the whole situation. I know I handled it all badly. I should have apologized, and apologized. And I should have made her explain what exactly she was thinking to me, instead of hiding and stewing and waiting. I mean, I yelled at her, Kurt. At Sectionals. Before I even knew about the stuff with Puck."

Kurt lifted a tentative hand to awkwardly rub his brother's shoulder as the boy seemed to sink under the sadness of his memories. He didn't know how to comfort him exactly, but he hoped Finn appreciated that he wanted to.

"When we were at Quinn's, God that feels so long, and I kissed her, I begged for her back. She was right. To tell me no. Because I still didn't get it then. But, Kurt, I think I do now."

Kurt was on the edge of his seat, physically and metaphorically, eager to be let in on the insight.

"She's always been all confident in her talent, right? Because how could she not be. But she's never been confident in everything else. Even though she totally should, 'cause she's so awesome, but like everyone else being so shitty to her all the time just kept her from seeing that. Santana, before, was like both the person who was the shittiest to her of all, and also, like, everything she'd ever felt she wasn't, smooshed into one. It was like a triple betrayal. She was mad 'cause I lied, and she was hurt, because I'd been with someone who was so mean…especially to her. And… I think she was scared, because she thought I'd compare…and she, _stupidly_, thought she'd come out on the losing end. And instead of making her see that wasn't true at all, instead of reassuring her and tell her how much _more_ she was for me, I just did nothing. I _let_ her think those awful things."

Kurt let out a shaky breath as Finn's eyes darkened with anger at himself. "Once I really realized how bad she must have been feeling, forgiving her for kissing Puck was actually kind of easy. Still hurts that she did it, and it_ was_ totally wrong of her, but… Forgiving myself has been what's so hard."

"And have you?" Kurt's voice was just slightly louder than a whisper.

Finn shrugged. "I think my best shot at that is proving I can love her better this time."

"You know, you don't have to _wait _to love her better. You can start now, as her friend. And she'll catch on, Finn. I have faith in that."

Kurt stifled his sigh of relief when Finn smiled a little at that. "Really?"

"Oh, yes, dear brother. In the enduring power of Finchel?" Kurt sat up straighter to convey his certainty. "I have no doubt."

!

"Nice fedora, Lauren."

"Thank you, Blaine." Lauren smoothly slid her fingers along the brim of her hat before tipping it slightly with a smirk on her face. "I can tell you're a man of taste."

"Pssh." Kurt bristled at her comment with a sound of disagreement before setting down a cheese plate between her and the lead Warbler on the coffee table. "Please don't be fooled by the tailored blazer and charming smile. Upon further inspection I've discovered he drinks generic soda and watches the SyFy channel. His taste is suspect. Liking your fedora, which is adorable by the way, is just a lucky guess."

"I don't know. I snagged a pretty amazing boyfriend, didn't I? My taste can't be all bad."

Lauren suppressed a snort of laughter as Kurt stared expressionless at his boyfriend a moment. "Touché."

"Okay, I've got the crackers and apple juice," Rachel announced as she entered the Berry family room, "Our final prom planning meeting can commence."

Lauren snagged a few crackers as her "date" passed by with the plate and snorted a little at her friend's deeply rooted Type-A insanity. "You do realize no one else has _a_ planning meeting for this thing, let alone three?"

"Oh, don't harp on her controlling nature, Lauren. We already talked her out of taking meeting minutes and providing a printed itinerary for the evening. We have to pick our battles."

"And it's not like we don't have fun while we're here anyway. Pass me a juice?"

"Thank you, Blaine. I think it's fun, too." Rachel said primly, handing him a glass before settling down next to Lauren on the couch. "Now, I'll pick up Lauren's and my corsages, as well as both your boutonnieres, on Saturday morning so they'll be here in the refrigerator and ready to go when we meet for the limo. Kurt, Lauren, you've confirmed your orders will be completed on time and to your appropriate specifications, correct?"

Lauren smiled and nodded when Rachel looked her way, before rolling her eyes and throwing a grape at Blaine across the table once the brunette's eyes were back on her checklist.

"Great. I've made a reservation for dinner at 6:45 at Breadstix, so boys, be sure you are here no later than 6:15 to allow for pictures. Lauren, you're coming over at 4 for our hair appointments, right?"

Lauren dodged the grape that came sailing back at her, this time from Kurt, as she answered Rachel smoothly. "Yes, ma'am."

"Perfect. Now, are anyone else's parents planning on coming to take photographs of their own? My dads do not mind sending digital copies to anyone who'd be interested."

Lauren had just positioned her fingers to flick a cube of cheese out of the palm of her hand at the boys when suddenly Rachel's eyes lifted from her paper. Quickly, to avoid Rachel's scolding for launching a food fight in her home, Lauren threw the cheese into her mouth, only to hit too far back in her throat, immediately causing a spastic choking fit.

Unable to stop her coughs and gasps, Lauren pounded on her chest a little with her fist. Beside her, Rachel's eyes widened comically in concern as the tiny girl began patting her back, and worriedly encouraged her to lift her arms above her head, asking her to blink twice if she thought she needed the Heimlich maneuver.

Tears springing in her eyes as she tried to regain control of her lungs, Lauren caught sight of Kurt and Blaine on the opposite side of the coffee table, each about to burst from holding in their laughter at scene before them.

A frantic Rachel practically shoved a glass of juice in her hand, urging her to drink it if she could to calm her throat, and Lauren's own laughter caused increased coughing as Rachel turned on Blaine and Kurt to admonish them for not taking Lauren's health and safety seriously, as they both failed to maintain their quiet any longer and were now doubled over on the floor in hysterics.

A few moments later, when she could finally take full deep breaths again, Rachel was still laying into the boys who kept trying to force their faces straight, only to then look at eachother and break out into giggles all over again.

Lauren reached for another cube of cheese and sat back against the couch. Just as Rachel stomped her foot and readjusted her small fists on either side of her hips, demanding Kurt take her seriously, Lauren flicked at block of Swiss directly at her friend, hitting her mark directly on the cheek.

Rachel's jaw dropped, mouth hanging open wide, as she turned slowly to face Lauren, shock and indignation pinching her brows together.

With another stomp and a huff Rachel turned on her heel and marched out of the room, muttering something about why people always found it necessary to throw food in her house.

Stopping her laughter, Lauren managed to shout after her. "Oh, get back here, Berry. You can throw a grape at me so we're even… Come on, you _can't_ storm out …you live here!"

Lauren caught Blaine and Kurt's eyes just for a second and instantly found herself shaking and snickering all over again.

Oh, yeah. Crazy prom-planning meetings aside? She was really looking forward to prom with these cats.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Prom!

This chapter was an angry mama grizzly bear who thought I was after her cubs. As such, even though it has been finished for almost a year, I hated it too much to post it. But as I recently felt the need to revert back to my alternative second half of season 2 to escape the bummed out feelings actual season 4 is giving me, I did a little editing and got this to a point where I can stand to let it go. I hope if anyone still cares to read it, that it does not disappoint. And I apologize for being so awful about updating.

AND A REMINDER: While this story started as a continuation in-canon after the Christmas episode of Season 2, it is now INCREDIBLY AU. My pairings and character journeys have gone in a very different direction than the show's versions. Since it's been so long between updates, I just wanted to draw attention to this fact to (hopefully) prevent confusion. (I had to reread the whole story to get back to a place where I myself understood the happiness of Sam/Quinn & Artie/Brittany, the straightness of Santana, the presence of a non-Puck-dating Lauren, the fact that they are all juniors, etc.)

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Just love 'em. (Even when they need to be slapped in the face or sat in a corner.)

!

Yeah, Brittany knew that she didn't always "get" things like everyone else did.

Through the years, she'd gotten used to the looks of discomfort or sadness, amusement or confusion, that seemed to pop up so frequently on the faces of her parents, teachers, friends when she spoke. The looks she knew meant, "Poor Brittany just doesn't understand."

But… there was at least one thing that she _did_ understand completely, even if it seemed to confuse everyone else.

And that was why the "dumb cheerleader who just wanted to dance" and the "super nerd who couldn't even walk" were actually _totally_ perfect for eachother.

Her and Artie did make sense. Even if only she and Artie (and Lord Tubbington) could see it.

They were like ying yang or something.

Like, how Artie _never_ talked down to her. He never groaned in frustration or snorted with barely contained laughter, ignoring things she said as if her thoughts were too stupid to matter. He re-explained things to her when she didn't see what he meant the first time, and when something she said made other people laugh on accident, he patiently and sweetly told her why. He listened to her every word; he called her "uniquely insightful."

He made her feel smart. For the first time in her whole life.

And he appreciated dance, understood the flow of it, even if he couldn't physically do it himself. He was often her sounding board, or a great source of new ideas. And he didn't seem angry or jealous that she could do what he could not, just proud... as if he thought she was dancing for both of them. (Which, since they'd gotten together, she sorta felt like she was.)

His supporting her at Sectionals with the "magic comb" was just the beginning. And she knew she made him feel better about himself, too.

It was like they filled in all each other's holes, so that together they were _whole_.

And as thankful as he always said he was to have her on his lap, Brittany was just as thankful to be there.

Perched on her favorite seat now, she put her head on his shoulder, squeezing his fingers a little where their hands were linked, as the specialty limo they'd rented drove towards Tina's house.

Feeling him squeeze back, she smiled at the sound of his soft laughter, jostling her just a little bit, as they watched Santana and Puck argue over who was more qualified by past experience to uncork the provided bottle of (fake) champagne.

Santana ultimately won by resorting to violence while Puck rubbed his arm and scowled, muttering about bruising and his frustration at not being the kind of guy who'd hit a girl.

And Brittany felt that nice lightheaded feeling like when she used to close her eyes on the swing as a kid, leaning as far back as she dared, the air rushing by her, her strong legs pumping her higher and higher, while the sunlight sprinkled patterns against her eyelids.

Once upon a time, Brittany had feared her and Santana were drifting apart. She'd worried that her oldest friend, the person she loved and trusted most in the world, would always have to be separate from the boyfriend, and new other friends, she'd come to adore this year. But tonight, it was so clear that wasn't the case. She and San were close as ever again. And Artie was here too, smelling kinda like the trees she liked and whispering how pretty he thought her green dress was, how wonderful and beautiful and hot he thought she was, every few minutes.

That's how she knew without a doubt that tonight was going to be perfect. She'd be there, at Prom, with Artie, and Santana, and all of their friends, so it was going to be amazing.

How could it not be?

!

Mercedes sucked in a breath as she stepped into the ballroom of the only multi-star "downtown" hotel in Lima, Ohio.

One large chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, lightly illuminating the marble staircase leading down to a shining polished hardwood dance floor. Mirrors along the one wall at the far side of the room caught the dancing candlelights that flickered atop each of the white-clothed tables. It was the prettiest place she'd ever been in.

Definitely nicer than the civic center her one cousin had used as a reception hall for her wedding.

And while Kurt and Finn's parents' wedding had been lovely, even that hadn't had quite the same extravagant feel.

No wonder the price of the prom tickets had been so high.

Forcing herself to take in and release air in a more normal rhythm, she nervously ran her hand down the soft fabric of her dress, smiling at how the long and silky gown, in a gorgeously regal purple, made her feel like a princess.

Rachel'd said she thought Mercedes' dress was the loveliest of all the glee girls'.

Mercedes hadn't argued.

She felt Max lean in to whisper a joke about the track suit Sue Sylvester was wearing as he pointed the cheer coach out where she kept watch, eyes narrowed in disgust and judgment, in a corner of the room.

Giggling lightly, Mercedes shook her head at him fondly. He'd been so charming all night, bragging about her throughout dinner to his group of friends (who were all very nice, but not nearly as entertaining as her normal crew, thank you very much), complimenting her constantly, making her laugh to distract her from what she hoped were unknown-to-him nerves.

Everything, all ready, had been more, better, than she could have dreamed. And the night was really only just beginning. She took a quick scan before descending the stairs completely, looking for her gleeks. She saw, unsurprisingly, that Mike and Tina were dancing already to the slightly older pop song that was on, Santana and Brittany were moving too, but also whispering back in forth and cackling at something. Artie and Puck stood just off to side of the official dance floor, chatting with Sam, Quinn, Blaine, and Lauren, while Rachel snapped photos of Finn and Kurt in their tuxes (Finn notably making silly faces right as the flash went off, only to cause Kurt to huff as he inspected the digital display and hand the camera back to Rachel, apparently demanding she take their picture again).

She was so ready to get the real party started.

Grabbing Max's hand, she asked if they could go say hello to her friends.

He smiled knowingly as he nodded.

She couldn't help it if her singing band of misfits were more fun.

"Cedes!" She laughed as she heard Kurt squeal only a moment before he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him fully, his gaping expression of delight nearly sending her into hysterics. "You. Look. Fabulous! Hottest girl here. I don't even care if Santana hears me say that."

"Thanks, Kurt. You look incredibly handsome yourself." She gave him two light cheek kisses before greeting the now approaching Blaine and introducing him to Max.

Turning to her best friend's stepbrother as he joined them, she offered the tall boy a smile. "Hey, Finn. You look handsome," she indicated his tux with her finger, "Kurt help?"

Mercedes liked hearing the fondness in his voice as Finn answered, motioning with a quirk of his head to his brother. "Yeah. After he realized I still had no real idea what a cummerbund was, he came at me with a measuring tape one night after dinner, and then told me not to worry about a thing. It was nice of him, but, you know, unnecessary. And a little weird."

"That sounds about right. But you must admit, the boy certainly knows how to take charge of formal wear. He even got you a boutonnière."

Her eyebrows knitted together slightly as Finn looked down suddenly, his face slightly flushed, the guy appearing almost shy. "Uh…actually, Rach got this for me. Didn't want me to be without one…in case I had forgotten."

She had to bite her lip a little to reign in the knowing smile. Those two kids…

"You look, uh, really beautiful, by the way. Max better have told you that."

"Oh, don't worry, man. I've told her repeatedly. 'Cause it's true, and 'cause I like how cute she gets when she blushes."

Mercedes rolled her eyes a little but giggled as she felt Max step in close to her side again, slipping his arm around, the heat of his hand nearly burning her waist (in a delightful way) through the fabric of her dress.

She rested her head on his shoulder as he and Finn chatted amicably for a few minutes about the Reds' chances at a repeat division title.

The music shifted, slowing down into an intro she recognized as Adele's version of The Cure's "Lovesong", and suddenly Mercedes noticed how much more of their class must have arrived as the dance floor seemed suddenly full.

"Ready to dance, Gorgeous?"

Mercedes couldn't restrain the shiver that rippled down her spine as Max's hot breath hit her cheek, the sensitive skin of her neck. Not trusting her voice to not be embarrassingly breathless, she nodded, letting him step slightly forward and turn back to gently take her hand. Beaming, she followed him to a narrow bit of space on the crowded floor.

Briefly, she registered from the corner of her eye that Finn had not been far behind them, guiding a nervous looking Rachel out to dance.

She took just a second to hope her petite friend could, somehow, manage to have as magical a night as she was having, before falling into the music and the feeling of a wonderful boy's arms around her.

!

"Whenever I'm alone with you,

_You make me feel like I am home again._

_Whenever I'm alone with you,_

_You make me feel like I am whole again."_

Rachel took a deep breath as subtly as she could, trying to calm herself just a little. Finn's hand was warm at the small of her back, and she could smell the faintest bit of his special occasion cologne on top of the all-the-time scent she just associated with him, associated with summer afternoons spent laying against his side, head on his chest, believing that nothing could ever come between them again.

Finding a spot amidst the sea of couples, swaying under the dimming lights, he stopped and after just a moment's pause, pulled her gently towards him. Settling a hand upon her hip, he took her hand in his other, looking down at her as she slipped one arm up to rest her palm against his shoulder, and then just as quickly, looking away.

Studying him now she could see how nervous he was, maybe even more so than her, from the way he held his neck, the way he swallowed, too hard and too often, as if his mouth was unusually dry.

It was silly to feel that tension, when once upon a time they'd been so comfortable with eachother. But, in the week since their win at Regionals, despite a relative feeling of normalcy in their glee club conversations and seeing him around the Hudson-Hummel home while she spent time with Kurt, they hadn't _really_ spoken, at least not about_ them_. They really hadn't been alone. And now, here, dancing, physically holding onto one another, the lyrics of the song surrounding them, practically pushing them closer together somehow, it felt, despite the crowd, as if they might be the only two people in the world.

_"However far away,_

I will always love you,

_However long I stay,_

_I will always love you,_

_Whatever words I say,_

_I will always love you."_

Suddenly _them_ seemed a topic that'd be difficult to avoid.

Didn't mean she wouldn't still try.

"I like this version of the song. By no means would I suggest it overpowers the original, but Adele's voice really is so rich, almost mesmerizing, she undoubtedly lends a romanticism to the piece that is incredibly evocative."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Yes, sometimes even she found her own rambling annoying.

"Yeah, uh. It's really nice."

Rachel felt the tiniest quirk at the corner of her mouth at Finn, answering earnestly and yet also with a bit of confusion, as if he wasn't entirely sure what she just said.

But then he looked down at her, actually into her eyes, and her breath caught for just a second at the sheer magnitude of feeling she saw in his. The air around them changed and the awkward nervousness of a moment ago was gone, leaving in its place a heavier anticipation instead. As if something important was about to happen.

"Rachel…"

_"I will always love you."_

He paused and the lyrics slipped in and she tried to not read too much into it, but dear lord if the look on his face wasn't saying exactly the same thing as what Adele had just sung.

"Finn?"

"I'm sorry about last weekend. I wanted to make a gesture, you know, like in all the movies? But I never meant to make you uncomfortable or, like stressed about it, or anything. I…"

He forced a breath and looked up for just a second before letting his eyes return to hers.

"There's no pressure, Rachel. I just want you to know that I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I'm going to be here, whenever you're ready."

She opened her mouth, hesitating as she struggled to pinpoint what exactly she wanted to say to that, when commotion brewing to her right interrupted their moment, drawing their attention away.

"Back off, man. Leave my girlfriend alone."

Rachel sucked in a breath. She couldn't see through the couples dancing between her and the source of the raised voice to make out a face, but she recognized it all the same.

Apparently, someone had upset the usually cool, calm, and collected Mike Chang.

Pulling slightly away from Finn to step towards where a few of their peers were already watching some new drama unfold, she looked briefly up to him, as he could see over heads and shoulders, and noticed a furious tick at his jaw before he squeezed her hand that she'd forgotten he was holding, and then stepped through the wall of gaping teenagers with a barely murmured, "Excuse me."

Gently but insistently nudging her own way through, ducking under arms and squeezing around bodies, she came into the small circle that had formed, to find Timothy Powers, staggering slightly where he stood as if he had been drinking something other than soda, leering at Tina, while a furious Mike held her protectively to his side.

The music still played, and there was still a large crowd dancing, but the confrontation was gaining attention and Rachel wondered where on earth Coach Sylvester had gone.

Finn made his way around the small clearing to stand nearer to Mike, and Rachel saw Sam and Puck push through the other side of the crowd to join. A few of Tim's buddies were standing close behind him too though, laughing derisively while their ringleader threw garbled innuendos at Tina.

She could feel the mounting tension, the questions in the air. The set of Mike's jaw, the threatening posture of the hockey goons, the discomfort plainly displayed on Tina's features –it all indicated this was assuredly an unfriendly confrontation.

One that she feared from the way the air was buzzing could go too far, too fast.

Where was Sue? Or any of the other chaperones? Wasn't Mr. Schue supposed to be around here somewhere?

"Come on, Tina. It's just one dance. With a real man. Give me a chance, and I'm sure we could bump and grind the loser right out of you."

"That's disgusting." Tina spat out from where she was tucked slightly behind Mike, though Rachel knew her friend was shaking.

"Let me make my position on this perfectly clear, Tim, because I am tired of the games and I won't say it again: Leave. Tina. Alone."

"Or what, Chang? What are you going to do about it? I'm not _bullying_ her. I'm asking her to dance. Isn't that right people?" Rachel cringed as the hockey player's words slurred slightly and he confidently gestured around to the spectators. "Look at all the witnesses, Mike. They can clearly see that I just want to take that hot piece of ass you call a girlfriend for a spin on the dance floor. You're the one getting belligerent. In fact, I'm starting to feel a little threatened myself. Bullied, even."

Rachel inhaled sharply as Mike went to step at the jerk, only to feel a small wave of relief when Puck caught his arm, holding him back.

"Friend to friend, let me enlighten you a bit, Powers."

She noticed the way Noah's use of the word "friend" suggested they were anything but.

"Dancing is typically a consensual activity. And Tina's not interested."

"You Chang and Chang's body guard now, Puckerman? Since Hudson's moving back in to take Berry off your hands? Bet that kills you, doesn't it?"

Rachel's existing fury began to further heat up her cheeks at her name being dragged into this, and while Noah did an admirable job of keeping his face neutral, even from a slight distance she noticed something darken in his eyes, and knew that he was getting angrier by the second as well.

"You are just set on getting your ass expelled tonight, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that, Puck? You looking for a fight? 'Cause in your case that's a one-way ticket back to Juvie. Of course, it is only a matter of time before you end up locked up again, one way or another. Only point of putting it off would be to get yourself into big boy prison."

"Fuc-"

Sam, ever striving to be the voice of reason, cut off Noah's retort. "Tim. Come on, man. It's prom. Everyone just wants to have a good time. What do you say you go back to your friends, and leave us to ours. Seriously. We don't want any trouble."

Despite her anxiety for the situation Rachel couldn't resist rolling her eyes as she heard Noah mutter, "Speak for yourself, Evans."

"You know?" Timothy Powers hiccupped again, shooting a cocky smile over his shoulder to his teammates. "You're right. We all just want to enjoy ourselves, so I'll tell you what. Tina shows me a good time? And we'll leave the rest of you all alone do your jazz hands shit or whatever, without another word."

Tim Powers then took an overly confident step towards Tina again, Mike pulled back his fist, Rachel heard herself shout in surprise and dismay, and in a single second everything seemed to break into chaos…

!

Red.

Mike Chang was seeing red.

It was the only thing keeping him from noticing the sting at his lip from where a tearful Tina was pressing, gently but still with enough pressure to hurt, a towel with ice cubes against the busted, bleeding skin.

He was fuming, and as he heard Rachel and Sam giving an irate looking Sue Sylvester and a concerned looking Coach Bieste an account of what had just happened, it took everything in him not to interject what he really thought about Timothy Powers and what Rachel was referring to as his "Neanderthal-like behavior" into their telling of the sequence of events.

Everything had happened so quickly, and he'd been so close to kicking that kid's ass. The rush of rage had been unfamiliar and twisted unpleasantly in his stomach.

Mike had never thought he'd be the kind of guy to throw punches, let alone be the kind of guy who'd act out the cliché of doing so at a high school dance, over a girl. He just wanted to get through high school, remember? Having as much fun, and as little drama, as possible, along the way.

Being in love changed things, though. And he would have gladly punched Tim tonight, repeatedly, for the look of discomfort and fear the guy had put on Tina's face…if only the student body of WilliamMcKinelyHigh School had given him the chance.

But they hadn't.

He remembered Tim taking his last step towards Tina, standing close enough that Mike could smell the beer on his breath, and there'd been shouting in his ear as he'd cocked his fist back. But then he'd gotten shoved a little off balance as Finn pulled Tina away. Tim, apparently surprised in his inebriation from all the shifting, reacted with his fist, making contact with Mike's mouth and instantly the dancer remembered the metallic taste of blood gushing onto his tongue. Sam moved in front of him then on instinct, probably to both cut Tim off from scoring another blow and to keep Mike from having the opportunity to retaliate. Mike remembered a few guys he knew from his AP math class crowding in all of a sudden, expressions stern and defiant, to keep a barrier between him and the other drunken, and now on-edge, hockey players, while Puck stepped right up to Tim, a sharp and threatening glare on his face, fingers curling into fists at his side.

Mike had been sure for a moment that Puck was going to let the guy have it, trip back to juvie or not.

But then the angry bellows of Sue Sylvester, demanding to know what was going on, broke through and silenced most everything but the Timbaland-featuring-whoever song the DJ had slipped on a moment before. In a shocking show of solidarity Mike would never have guessed possible, the gaggle of witness began answering the cheerleading coach, talking over eachother and explaining how Tim Powers had been harassing Tina, taunting Mike and Puck, trying to goad them into fighting, before throwing a punch in Mike's direction.

These weren't kids he'd call friends, some of them weren't kids he was sure he recognized, but still they spoke up, at once, to make sure Sue knew he and Tina were the victims.

He wasn't sure what all this was going to mean for Tim Powers, or for him, Puck and Sam, who he knew the hockey players had been placing the blame back on during their interrogation. But he did know, a few months ago? None of those other students would have said a damn thing.

He continued to fume as he saw Beiste put a hand on Sam's shoulder at something Rachel said, offering his blonde friend a small smile even as Sue rolled her eyes. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he saw Mr. Schue come over, expression stern, to join the other chaperones. His right leg bounced with the still-coursing adrenaline and nervous energy that was streaming through his body.

Until Tina, removing the make-shift ice pack from his mouth, took his hand in her own and squeezed. Her fingers felt cool against his flushed skin, soothing, and the gentleness of the gesture broke through his anger enough to still him.

Then he felt the light touch of her petal-soft lips against his cheek, and he could smell her perfume suddenly, and he felt the tension in his shoulder ease, the comfort of her familiar scent practically overpowering him.

Her then whispered, "I love you," blew the last of his rage away.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was a little hoarse, and purposefully low, but he knew Tina'd heard him just fine when she squeezed his hand again, and looked at him in surprise.

"Whatever for?"

"For not doing a better job of discouraging Tim from messing with you. For ruining prom. For-"

He was cutoff by the placement of Tina's slender finger to the non-busted corner of his lips.

"Mike, there is absolutely nothing for you to apologize about. You have just proven, yet again, to literally be the world's greatest boyfriend. You just took a punch for me, for crying out loud."

He felt his cheeks heat a little at the earnest adoration in her eyes and shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I used to feel like I had no one, Mike. And now, I'm the luckiest girl around because I have the very best_ someone_." She looked at him hard a moment before turning slightly to nod her head towards where Puck was now taking his turn at being grilled by a suspicious looking Coach Sylvester. "And we're both lucky to have the kind of friends who will literally step in when we need them, even when there are fists flying."

He smiled a little, finally really noticing the pain from his cut where the side of his mouth turned up slightly, but not caring, and leaned in to rest his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Tina."

"I love you, too."

He felt his smile widen as she beamed at him before adding, "Now, let's go see if that asshole's gotten suspended."

!

There were countless things about being a teacher that Will Schuester loved. But chaperoning things like school dances certainly wasn't one of them.

Suspending a kid wasn't necessarily high up on his "favorites" list either.

But here he was, stuck doing both of those things tonight.

He rubbed his temples as he waited with a silent Sue Sylvester, a dejected Timothy Powers between them, outside Lima's nicest hotel, for the boy's parents to pick him up.

When the commotion broke out, and he'd noticed several of his glee kids in the thick of it, Will had tried, carefully, not to jump to conclusions. He knew the hockey players were prone to stirring things up, and that his kids were often picked on, but at the same time…well, it wasn't exactly as if he'd never seen a violent outburst in that choir room, either. He knew Puck and Finn, even Mike or Sam in the wrong circumstances, had the potential for letting anger get the best of them. He had to be a responsible educator first and foremost, and thoroughly assess the situation.

He couldn't just assume that his kids were in the right.

But, thankfully to be honest, the investigation proved his initial suspicions to be true.

Yet again, someone, _someones_, had thought they could intimidate, harass, his glee club without consequence. But, since the installation of the new policy, that assumption was now false.

_Finally_, there was something he could do about it.

Tim's intoxication was evident. The accounts of his bullying, and instigating the overall situation, near unanimously given from the 20 or so student witnesses. And it was clear that Tim had thrown the first and only punch.

It was a school sponsored function, even if it wasn't on school grounds, and Sue, surprisingly, had been first to point out that the new code of conduct had very specific things to say about such behavior.

With just a few more weeks of the academic year left, the resulting suspension would require him to take summer school classes in order to complete his final grades.

Will hoped that'd be enough of a burden to offer Tim Powers an attitude adjustment before the fall.

Sneaking a glance at Sue's determined profile, Will marveled in his head once more at how surprising her stance on the anti-bullying situation had been. In fact, her continued support in that regard had been surprising him for quite awhile, since Kurt had come to them last fall pleading for intervention with Karofsky.

Sue Sylvester often wasn't above much when it came to getting her way, but apparently there were things she would not stand for or allow, and from the earful she'd unleashed on both Timothy Powers, and his parents over the phone, sexual harassment was one of them.

She'd pointed out that the drinking, the violence and the goading, were all certainly wrong, and definitely punishable, but, perhaps sadly, were not rare or even unexpected in high school. But the way Tim had spoken to and about Tina, the kind of fear he'd made her feel? Sue had told Mr. and Mrs. Powers that a school suspension would be the least of their worries if they couldn't raise their son to treat women better than that.

If he hadn't thought Sue would have merely glared at him and made a derogatory comment about his hair, Will Schuester would have clapped her on the back.

Still, after a while longer of dragging silence, the headlights of the Powers' old-but-well-cared-for Sedan caught Timothy's tense and apprehensive expression in their glow, and Will was struck for a second at how young the hockey player looked. He believed this punishment was deserved, and necessary, but also believed it could very well be just as much for Tim's personal benefit as for the school's safety.

In so many ways, Tim was still just a child after all. And Will knew from his own experience, watching Finn and Puck transform from the guys throwing eggs and slushies to the young men they were now, standing up to try and stop it, that children make mistakes, serious ones, sometimes even repeatedly, but it was never too late to teach them differently, to show them how to be better.

After a few polite but strained words with the Powers, and a terse nod of acknowledgement from Sue before she walked briskly back inside, Will found himself at the entrance to the dance, eyes somehow naturally finding the crowded table to the right, where the students he shouldn't admit, but could never really deny, were his favorites, all sat.

Quinn, now sporting a tiara he noted, sat on Sam's lap, laughing with Mercedes, as their boyfriends thumb wrestled awkwardly. Kurt and Rachel were squeezed together on a single chair, laughing at something Puck was saying to Blaine, the poor Warbler looking horrified. Finn, Brittany, and Lauren seemed to be having a contest to see who could fit more Hershey kisses in their mouths, while Mike, Tina, Santana and Artie all seemed to be alternating between cheering and cringing.

He was relieved to see the drama hadn't ruined their good time, interfered with what was supposed to be a happy and memorable night. As he pulled away to do his chaperone pass-through on the other side of the room, he decided to put something special together for Monday's rehearsal to remind them how proud he was of them, to have a little fun before they really got ready for Nationals.

After all, he hadn't rapped in awhile…

!

"So, Princess," Sam smiled at how cute Quinn looked as she blushed and rolled her eyes, and yep, now he was planning to make this into her newest pet name if that's the reaction it'd get every time, "What next? What does her royal highness want to do with the rest of our evening?"

His smile broadened as she giggled girlishly at the kiss he placed on the back of her hand, stopping their walk towards the car that was waiting for them outside the prom, bowing his head a little like a good and humble servant.

"Cut it out, Evans."

"As you wish." He quirked his eyebrow a little and gave a bit of an accent, and he knew she got his dorky _Princess Bride_ reference even if she wouldn't readily admit that she loved that movie too.

"Seriously, though. The night is still young… or at least we are, so who needs sleep? What do you want to do right now?"

She smiled coyly, one side of her lips pulling up slightly higher than the other. "I think you know _exactly_ what I want to do now."

He laughed at her vixenish expression, but even more so at the more innocent mirth in her eyes. He did have a pretty good idea what her preferred way to the end the night would be.

"Pajamas pick-up and then crashing at the Berry house?"

"It's like you can read my mind."

"And can hear our friends' conversations. Lauren was filling in Max on how the Fathers Berry had agreed to let everyone over for an after-prom party, provided there was no alcohol or "hanky panky.""

"Yeah, I was there when they told Rachel. They asked for a signed agreement from both Santana and Puck on those provisions. And I think they were only half-joking."

Sam snorted, both amused by her report and the Berry dads themselves, and kissed her knuckles again. "Your mom good with that?"

While Sam had never witnessed firsthand the rigid religious fervor of Quinn in the Christ's Crusaders' era, he knew the girl he loved, and her mother that they joined for church on Sundays, had both changed, learned, a lot from the events of the year before. They were both more on the "judge-not" side of things now, but still... a co-ed slumber party might even give lenient parents pause, and after all, he still wasn't allowed in Quinn's bedroom.

"Mmhmm. She said she trusts me, as much for my past mistakes as in spite of them apparently, and that she trusts the Berries too. She even thanked me for being honest and direct with her about you being there. And she likes you too, Sam. At least as much as she'd like any high school boy dating her only daughter, that is."

Sam smiled at that as they finally reached the car, opening the door and motioning for Quinn to slip in with a little gentlemanly flourish. "I'm glad to hear that. I do think I'm on the more likable end of the boyfriend spectrum, but I know I'm no Mike Chang."

Quinn laughed solidly at that. "Exactly. Don't say anything, but Tina's mom has already started collecting bridal magazines. I think Mike would actually eat it up if he knew, but the whole thing freaks Tina out. Completely."

"I won't say a word, but I _might_ start humming "Here Comes the Bride" whenever I'm right by Tina, just to see her reaction."

"You will not, you're way too nice to upset her on purpose. Also, you know I would hurt you."

"You would not. You love me."

"Against my better judgment." Sam fought to contain his smile as he watched her do a poor job of appearing anything close to regretful.

"Well if that's the case, I've never been so grateful for poor decision making."

She scowled at him, all teasing, before rolling her eyes. "Will you just shut up and kiss me, please."

Sam laughed out loudly, probably startling the driver on the other side of the car's partition. "Yes, Princess."

!

The sound on the TV was turned down pretty low, as several people had already fallen asleep. The prom, and the surprise boys-vs-girls nighttime backyard scavenger hunt her fathers had organized (with the help of Mrs. Chang and Mrs. Jones) afterwards, had really worn everyone out. Tina and Mike were curled around eachother in one of the recliners, while Brittany dozed with her head on Artie's shoulder on the loveseat. Blaine and Kurt were asleep too, nestled against a giant pile of pillows on the floor, the latter almost making Rachel giggle to notice, since she was certain he hadn't made it through his nightly moisturizing routine yet. To appease her parents, and her friends' parents, she knew she'd have to wake them all up eventually to separate out into their own spaces for propriety's sake, but in the meantime she was too comfortable to move, and there was no sense disturbing anyone else's slumber just yet. She was stretched out on the couch, head on one end sorta watching whatever movie Artie'd put on, as her legs tangled in the middle with Santana's, the other girl's head propped against a pillow on the couch's other arm. Puck was laying on the floor in front of them, occasionally reaching up to flick one of their shins, without ever looking or being too concerned with which one of them he attacked. And Rachel laughed each time he did it, as Santana would immediately smack him on the back of the head, regardless of which of them actually got flicked.

Sam and Quinn were in the other recliner whispering to eachother, despite their eyes being fixated on the movie, while Lauren, Max and Mercedes, and Finn were playing Uno as quietly as they could (which wasn't _really_ that quietly at all) on the floor to the side of the entertainment unit.

Everyone looked so lazy and calm Rachel could almost forget that just a few hours before there'd been any drama, any concern, and she had to admit that despite that scare, and all her personal reservations about this night, her Junior Prom had ended up being a wonderful time, full of laughter and many new fond memories.

That didn't mean she wasn't a little relieved that it was over though.

The last few months had been some of the best of her life (as much of a surprise as that was after how the year had looked at the start), but she couldn't deny there'd been a lot of stress, too, along the way. Now yet another source of some of her anxiety was behind her, and with Nationals right around the corner she would take any amount of reprieve she could get.

Jostled a little as Santana got up to use the restroom and muttered at Puck to move his "fat head" before she stepped on it, Rachel too finally forced herself up and off the comfortable couch to see to her dry throat. Padding across the room, stepping over and around her sleeping and lounging friends far more politely than Santana, she offered the awake ones a few smiles before catching herself stifling a yawn. Reaching the kitchen she pulled down a glass and turned to get the water pitcher from the fridge just as she heard someone enter behind her.

"Hey."

Finn's voice was just barely above a whisper, but the special warm quality she'd always loved about it was still audible. She turned to see him stepping further into the kitchen, moving to lean against the center island, eyes squinting to the tiniest degree, evidence of his own exhaustion.

"Hi." She gave him a smile as she returned to the counter, noticing how he looked more like a little boy when he was tired, even if he was so impossibly tall. She motioned to the pitcher in her hand. "Would you like a drink?"

"Sure, Thanks."

She reached up for a second glass before filling them and passing one to her ex. Desperate to fill the silence, she reached for something to ask.

"So who won?"

"Lauren. Twice. And it's a good thing too. For a while Max was in the lead and I swear she was just sitting there growling until her luck came back"

She nodded knowingly. "Sounds about right. San won't admit it now, but once she ended up folding with a killer hand on Poker night because she found the scowl on Lauren's face so intimidating."

"Santana? Really?"

"Mmhmm. Apparently she _can_ know fear. No one was more surprised than Santana herself to find this out."

He laughed just a little before taking a long drink of water, and Rachel took a sip too to avoid thinking of the next topic of conversation, suddenly feeling an awkwardness she was unaccustomed to in her own home.

But when he finally stepped up to end the returned quiet, she wasn't sure it alleviated any of the awkwardness at all, there was such pointed sincerity in his accompanying expression.

"You looked really beautiful tonight, Rach."

She looked down as she felt the warmth of both pleasure and embarrassment flush her cheeks and thought for just a passing second of putting the chilly water glass to her face to help cool her back down. Of course it would have been pointless, as she just blushed even more when she responded.

"Thank you. You too looked incredibly handsome, though that's nothing unusual."

She looked up and in his direction long enough to see him grinning a little, face and neck slightly reddened, as he stared at the drink in his hand before he finally brought his soft gaze up to hers.

"Look, what I said tonight, before the fight, I –"

"No, Finn. I didn't get to answer, but I really appreciated that, what you said, so much. And everything at Regionals? I mean, what you did was incredibly sweet and romantic…even if you know I hated not being in the loop during a competition." She smirked at him teasingly for just the flash of a moment, before she turned more serious again and swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand up a little straighter, as if faking confidence would magically instill it, though it was all in vain as she found herself stuttering through her reply. "You know that I…_care_ about you. As much as I've ever… I'm just…I've just…there's so much…" she struggled, pathetically and frustratingly, to articulate what she was afraid of, why she was still hesitating, even though, to be honest, she really had no idea exactly _why_, just that she could not help it. She felt tears spring into her eyes, furious with herself for not knowing what she was feeling, or how to express herself. She was Rachel Berry for crying out loud.

His expression, so thoroughly affectionate already, softened further. "Hey, hey. It's okay, Rach." He stepped forward, around the island that was between them, to cautiously place a hand on her shoulder, then squeezing it gently. "You don't have to say anything. The last thing I wanted to do is upset you. I just… I guess I've been trying to show you that, I get it now that last fall? It wasn't your fault. I messed up too, and I hurt you, and I had to come to terms with that. And, like, I had to get over my anger, too, and I just want you to know that I have, and that I'm so sorry. I miss you, and I'm sorry, and yeah. I'm just… _here_."

In an unconscious instant she was hugging him, so tightly around his waist, and he didn't hesitate even a second before hugging her back. She knew his words had been attempt to stifle her tears, but she was only crying harder, albeit as softly as she could, into the soft, worn material of his t-shirt.

She held on longer than she meant to, probably longer than she should have considering what he wanted and what she was still, for whatever reason, not quite ready to give.

But more than anything else between them, his friendship had always been something she treasured, something she considered priceless, precious, and finding comfort in his arms in this moment was pushing the last of that unwanted, unfamiliar awkwardness away.

Finally stepping back, she brushed at the dampness under each of her eyes before turning her face back up to him, offering a faint but genuine smile. "Thank you." She breathed deeply. "For being wonderful, and patient." She shrugged. "And for being you." She stood on her toes to place a kiss against his cheek, before placing her glass in the sink and heading out of the kitchen.

Just as she was about to pass back into the living room, his voice stopped her and she turned to find him smiling. "Sweet dreams, Rach."

"You too, Finn."

As she crossed back towards the couch, in the increased darkness with the TV now off, climbing over a few more sleeping forms, she noticed Noah's eyes catch hers, before flickering to where she could feel Finn reentering the room behind her, then shutting abruptly.

A few minutes later, as she laid with her legs tangled again with a now softly snoring Santana, she could tell from the solidity of his breathing that he was still awake.

"Goodnight, Noah." Her whisper was soft and really just a breath, but she was certain he heard her. Which is why it made her chest ache that she never heard a reply before finally falling asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Is anyone still willing to read this? If so, thank you. Also, my Nationals is structured very differently than the show's…I had it planned out when I started this story, back in mid-season 2, and I liked it too much to change it to how the show portrayed the competition. Hope that doesn't really bother anyone.

Disclaimer: No own.

!

Mr. Schuester walked purposefully into Tuesday's rehearsal with a determined set to his jaw and a dry erase marker at the ready.

The club's time together the day before had been fun. He'd come in to find them all looking at each other's pictures from Prom night and giggling as they revisited the highlights of their weekend. He'd smiled at the display, again relieved that the incident with Timothy Powers hadn't ruined the memorable occasion, before stealing their attention with his surprise performance of Kanye West's "Stronger" - a celebration of all the victories he'd watch them enjoy lately, all hard earned, as well as a bit of a throwback for those who'd been around for "Gold Digger," back when the club was first getting started.

The song had ended to applause (and a fair amount teasing), and then he'd encouraged them all to spend the rest of the time playing around with songs that they had absolutely no plans to ever use in competition. He wanted to reward them with an afternoon of singing just for fun, before they had to get really serious again, and even the on-call jazz band kids got into the pressure-free improvising, finishing things off with a rousing rendition of "Everybody Wants to Be a Cat."

But though that had all been wonderful, a time to catch their breath post-Regionals, today had to be a different story. There were just about three weeks until Nationals, and a competition of such size and magnitude required a whole new level of careful planning (which, admittedly, had _never_ been their strong suit in the past. How many last minute set lists could he honestly expect them to pull off?).

Making his way to the white board he quickly scrawled "30 minutes" upon it before turning to face his students.

"In order to win at Nationals we will have to offer up 30 minutes of solid performing, each and every second hitting the trifecta of judging points: Creativity, Execution, and Difficulty. Unlike the judges we've encountered at Sectionals and Regionals, who haven't always seemed to be the most obvious choices for naming the top performing club, the judges selected for Nationals are serious about the criteria outlined in the Show Choir Handbook. They are looking for the clubs who do not do what's easy, or what's expected, and who pull off their performances with precision. I think we are more than capable of impressing these men and women on all fronts, but it's going to take a lot of planning and practice in the next three weeks."

He took a moment to breathe and take in the faces of the kids in front of him. Will saw Finn, Puck, and Mike nodding with serious expressions on their faces, each seemingly processing his words like they would a pre-game pep talk from Coach Bieste. Rachel, Quinn, and Santana all sported faces of resolute concentration. Most of the others looked somewhere between nervous and excited.

"We will arrive in New York on Wednesday and will have a set time where we will be allowed to practice on the main stage at some point that afternoon. Thursday, we'll be on our own for rehearsal space so we'll probably be going with one of our hotel rooms. That night the competition kicks off with a performance from last year's winning team, Vocal Adrenaline, before the rules will be gone over and the schedule revealed. There are 65 teams competing and we won't know the other schools in our initial 13-team bracket before Thursday night, so we need to just concentrate on doing what we do best and not worry about who we are up against."

Will smiled sincerely at each of his students in turn. "I honestly have no doubt we will be asked to move onto the second round, where we'll be up against another 14 teams – the top three selected from each of the five opening brackets. From there, the top five will go to the finals to compete for the titles of first, second, and third place in the nation. For each set we're allotted 10 minutes of performance time, and _when_ we make it to the finals, at least one of those judges will have seen us at our previous two performances. That is why I think we need to have three separate sets, equal in their quality, prepared and ready for this competition. All of you are so talented, and this way we'll be able to let each and every one of you truly shine….so let the brainstorming begin!"

Clapping his hands together once and widening his smile, Mr. Schue looked expectantly at his team. He was momentarily worried at the uncharacteristic and lengthy pause of silence, before their voices erupted into excited shouting all at once, as his students turned toward one another, ready to dig in to the task at hand.

"I think Mike and Tina should get to do a duet, something they can sing while working in some awesome partner dancing," suggested Brittany.

"And what about a duet for Santana and Mercedes? Two girls would be a little outside the box, right? And their "Mountain High" performance last fall was incredible," Artie thought aloud.

"I think Puck should get a solo."

"I'm game but I vote one for Hummel, too."

"What about working on some mash-ups? They really stand out, and are great for group numbers."

"Excellent point, Mercedes. They combine the difficulty and creativity factors quite nicely," Rachel agreed, as she scribbled everyone's comments down in her notebook before standing and facing the others still seated in their chairs.

"Finn, why don't you work with most the group, in here, on mash-up ideas? We'll want a few options that show off our specific talents. Tina, Mike, Brit, and I will start figuring out a duet that really lends itself to tight couple's choreography in the auditorium. San and Mercedes, tonight, you two start pondering songs that you _know_ you can show off on, that could also easily accommodate two voices. Noah, do you have any ideas for a solo? I can look through my notes at home, if not. Kurt, I know you have a lengthy list…maybe you can narrow it down to a handful that you really want to do, and then we'll see which might work best with whatever the surrounding set is. This should get us started."

"B, I thinks I got an idea for the Changs… if they're up for it."

"Great, San." The shorter brunette motioned for Santana to join them. "Finn, we'll be back in 40 minutes to recap?"

"Sounds good."

Finn stood then offered his co-captain a fist to bump as he walked passed her to the front of the room, finding another marker for the white board. "Alright, guys, let's start brainstorming."

Will Schuester now found himself standing off to the side, arms folded in front of him even as his mouth hung open slightly, eyes widened in surprise.

Maybe he should be a little concerned, even insulted, that suddenly it was as if he wasn't in the room, as if his guidance wasn't needed, but all he could feel was more pride. His mismatched band of misfits was coming together like a well-oiled machine.

He chuckled excitedly as he tuned into the conversation before him, Finn navigating the team with ease. "You know I'd love to use Nirvana, man, but I'm not sure how to fit it with Katy Perry, Artie. You give me a sample of the instrumental overalp, and I'll write it down. Quinn? You have your smug face on, what's _your_ idea?"

Mr. Schue laughed heartily as Quinn's suggestion found immediate (loud) support from Lauren and Kurt, which seemed to spawn a new idea from Artie. They all smiled enthusiastically as Finn scribbled hastily across the board to keep up with it all.

Oh, yeah. They were _definitely_ making it to the finals.

!

"That was Santana, they should be here in ten minutes. Apparently Kurt and Finn were bickering over whether or not they had time to get food, and missed the exit. "

Tina leaned forward to slip her phone back in her purse tucked beneath her seat, smiling at Quinn's muttering about Finn's predictable preoccupation with food. "$10 he hits the concession stand before he even bothers to find us."

Tina laughed, "No way am I taking that bet."

Tina lifted her arms high over her head in a much needed stretch (between the long car drive after school yesterday, and sitting through a lengthy match the night before, her body was stiff from all the sitting) as she watched the stands start to fill, smiling at Mrs. Chang and Mrs. Evans as they claimed seats a few rows in front of her and Quinn. She'd honestly enjoyed her time with them the night before, as the mothers treated the boys and their girlfriends to a late dinner, celebrating their first-round victory in the State Tournament. Her frustration with Mike in the earlier days of their relationship over the very frequent dinners with his mother had never come from any amount of dislike for the woman – she just would rather spend most nights either with her boyfriend, alone, or with their friends. She _was _16. But once in a while, it was quite nice. They had their shared total adoration for Mike as common ground.

(And, also, she was pretty grateful the woman hadn't blamed her for Mike's busted lip the weekend before; apparently, Mrs. Chang appreciated the chivalry of it all.)

Moving her eyes to the court where Mike and Sam were volleying a bit to warm up, she felt her cheeks warm as she looked over her significant other's athletic frame and eager expression. As much as she enjoyed watching him on the football field, it was nice that tennis' lack of a helmet allowed her to take in and appreciate the looks of focus and effort and triumph on his handsome face.

Which mostly explained Quinn's consistent order for her to "stop drooling," but since the blonde gave Tina plenty of ammunition to throw the same line right back, Tina had no trouble shrugging the totally-true teasing off. Every time Sam would lift his shirt a little to wipe the sweat from his forehead, Quinn's sharp intake of breath at the sight of his abs caused Tina to burst into giggles.

And now, she was laughing particularly hard as both their boyfriends removed their warm-ups off to the side of the court, and Sam's shirt, sticking to the sweatshirt he was pulling over his head, almost came off completely, causing Quinn to let out a low whistle and a muttered, "Damn."

"Oh, hush. My boyfriend is _ridiculously_ hot, Cohen-Chang, and I'm not sorry." But Quinn's accompanying glare was just met with more laughing.

Finally noticing their other friends climbing the stadium's stairs, Tina just nodded at Quinn before waving happily at Rachel and Kurt as the two made their way over, Brittany and Santana right behind them.

"Hey! Heard you got a little lost…" Tina offered a sympathetic face as Kurt took a seat at her Quinn-less side, though a hint of amusement was evident in her eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it. I do not like driving to new places without clear direction and concentration. The fact that my bottomless pit of a step-brother could not rein in his appetite enough to allow me that courtesy is a sensitive topic at present."

Rachel playfully rolled her eyes as she stretched over Tina from her seat at Quinn's other side to poke Kurt's knee. "Be nice, Kurt. As Finn pointed out, he's three times our size. We cannot possibly understand the sustenance required to keep such a giant frame functioning throughout the day."

Kurt huffed, and, as if to illustrate Rachel's point, Tina noticed Finn take his seat next to Santana, precariously balancing a hot dog, a basket of nachos, a large soft pretzel, and a coke in his arms. Amused, she turned to meet Quinn's knowing glance.

"Yep, so glad I don't owe you $10."

Just then an announcer welcomed them to the 2011 Boy's Ohio State Tennis Quarter Finals, causing Tina's attention to refocus on the court before them, finding Mike's eyes and giving him an affectionate smile as the match's officials were introduced. After clapping politely when the doubles team from the other school came on the court, she had to refrain from cheering too rambunctiously when Mike's name was called (tennis was a civilized sport, after all), but delighted in the elbow nudge from Kurt when Mike mouthed her an 'I love you' before meeting his opponents at the net to shake hands.

After the first game Sam's strong serve had taken the boys into an early lead, but the second found them volleying long for each point. To her side, Kurt's head snapped side –to-side with the back-and-forth of the ball, but Tina found she couldn't take her eyes off Mike as his natural grace moved him swiftly around the court, his actions simultaneously strong and fluid, hypnotizing her. And she continued to stare for several sets before the spell was finally broken at the sound of Kurt's voice dubiously asking, "Tina, are you _drooling_?!"

Without a doubt, this year had been the very best of her entire life.

!

Peeking over the top of his menu, Kurt appreciatively took in the sight before him. Seven months of seeing that face consistently, and he was no less enamored with the handsomeness of one Blaine Anderson.

He was, apparently, less stealthy however, as, without glancing up from his own menu, Blaine blushed and commanded, "Stop staring at me."

Opting to play it cool despite being caught, Kurt took a sip of his water, without removing his gaze from Blaine, before replying. "No."

"Kurt..."

"I already know what I'm ordering, and I like your face."

"I like your face, too, but you are distracting me."

"Oh, like you aren't going to just order the eggplant parmesan like you have on every other evening we have dined at this particular establishment."

Finally looking up and closing his menu, Blaine's smile was both amused and affectionate. "Fine. You win."

Kurt raised an eyebrow of agreement before redirecting the conversation. "So, how terrifying does your exam week look? After Dalton's rigorous schedule of comprehensive exams last semester, I find the McKinley end-of-year testing to be rather anti-climactic. I'm exempt from all but two thanks to my GPA, and those remaining are less than intimidating. It's a good thing too, with rehears-"

Kurt stopped himself abruptly, feeling his cheeks pinking but knowing it was too late to backpedal. Damn it.

And he'd been doing such a good job of not mentioning New Direction's preparations for Nationals around Blaine.

It wasn't that he didn't think Blaine was happy for him, proud of him. He knew the fair Mr. Anderson pretty well, and Blaine was not one to let feelings of petty rivalry or jealousy anywhere near his rather impeccable character. But that didn't mean Kurt wanted to risk making someone he cared about feel, even for a second, any shred of avoidable disappointment. And considering how disappointed he himself would be feeling if things had gone the other way, he'd just been careful not to rub any salt into any wounds.

"Kurt, you can talk to me about it, you know? I'm not upset, I promise. New Directions were amazing at Regionals, you especially, and I am excited that you get to go be amazing in New York in a few weeks. I can take hearing about it. I _want_ to hear about it." Blaine blushed again before adding softly, "I want to hear about everything that goes on with you."

Taking in the earnestness evident in Blaine's big eyes, each framed by those gorgeous lashes that Kurt was both smitten with and envious of, he couldn't help but believe what his boyfriend was saying. And he was undeniably touched by it.

"Are we ready to order?"

Looking a little flustered as their two-way stare was broken, Blaine smiled charmingly at their waitress before indicating that Kurt should order first. Once it was just the two of them again, the Warbler sat a little straighter in his chair before insisting that Kurt share everything they'd been working on in Glee.

And after just the slightest additional second of hesitation, Kurt began rattling off the details.

"We have three group numbers, two of which are pretty complicated mash-ups, three duets, and three solos, of which I have one, all planned out, parts assigned. Rough choreography is finished for all of the club pieces and duets, but we've really only got it down for half of that. Everyone is practicing everything every day, with group number run-throughs before classes, duet work after school, and then another group run at night after dinner. Mr. Schue is working one-on-one with each of us soloists daily: with Rachel during lunch; during homeroom with me; and with Puck between the afternoon and evening rehearsals. I'm exhausted; we all are, I think. But in this weird, self-imposed I-don't-_want_-to-slow-down sort of way. We are working so hard, but I honestly think every single one of us believes we can win this thing."

Kurt bit his lip as he finished, hoping his enthusiastic rambling hadn't come across as boastful in any way, and was relieved to see that Blaine's smile seemed completely genuine, even as he scowled playfully and scolded him for not sharing that he had a solo sooner.

"You are going to be breathtaking, Kurt. I'm just sorry I won't be there to hear it."

"Thank you," Kurt reached across the table for Blaine's hand and squeezed it gently, his smile deepening as Blaine squeezed back.

"And," Kurt drew the word out in substitute of an adequate segue, "I actually had something somewhat related to talk to you about, though I feel quite unsure as to how you will receive the idea." He made a point of keeping his hold on Blaine's hand, but looked down slightly to keep the nervousness out of his expression. "We were talking at rehearsal the other night and your name came up. Puck," Kurt paused to wrinkle his nose as he always did at the ridiculous nickname before continuing, "stated, with his typically appalling phrasing, that the only possible way for us to have a stronger team would be if you decided to join New Directions."

Kurt didn't say anything more for a long moment, slowly raising his eyes back to meet Blaine's.

"The comment was mostly offhanded, and made largely just to foster confidence in our team, but later it occurred to me that it was very true. And I know that you are happy at Dalton, and I know we haven't been dating very long, and have no idea what the summer will hold, so to even suggest this sounds ridiculous on my part….but I miss singing with you. The idea of you being in New Directions, even as a mere fantasy, makes me smile because it would mean _all _my favorite people in the same place. So I just thought I'd mention it, in case the thought ever crossed _your_ mind. New Directions would be happy to have you…_ I'd_ be happy to have you."

Kurt was relieved when, eyes dancing with mischief, Blaine merely said, "Good to know," before bringing Kurt's hand to his lips, only releasing it as their dinner was served.

!

"That was fantastic, Rachel. Really. But let's try it just a little bit bigger on the last chorus; do you think you can hit that? This is not your typical genre, and you're doing an incredible job of digging into this version…but let's push it with your range."

Easing into a smug smile that was only 40% in jest, Rachel took a quick sip of water before assuring Mr. Schue that of_ course_ she could take this song wherever he thought it should go.

She knew it was a bit of a bold choice, giving her a punk-folk cover of a grunge staple. She was their noted Broadway darling. But Artie and Finn had somehow attached themselves to the idea of using "Smells Like Teen Spirit" somewhere in a set, and taking on the Patti Smith version as her solo just seemed like the most creative way to do that.

When she first suggested it, the skeptical silence she'd been met with reminded her of months before, when most of her ideas where usually met with initial resistance. Thankfully, this time she knew it was just because the idea of her singing such a gritty song seemed absurd to them, and not because they didn't like, trust, or understand her.

But, after she'd done her initial test run for the club, once the blank expressions of shock cleared off their faces, Santana's pleased smirk, Artie's impressed "Killed it," and Lauren's loud whistle left her feeling that they all supported the selection.

Still, she and Mr. Schuester were determined to find a way to add a little of her own flair into the piece. And with adding Sam and Puck to the band on mandolin and banjo respectively to further distinguish the sound, as well as incorporating some elaborate tango-inspired dancing, she was feeling more confident every time they went through it.

Nodding her head that she was ready to start, Mike and Brittany took their places on either side of her, Mike stretched as if tugging on one hand, while Brittany clung to the other, posed dramatically at her feet.

As she started singing she took a few steps, dragging them along, before pulling their hands together in front of her on the words, "bring your friends," before stepping off away from them as they began to dance together, a series of purposeful turns and pointed lifts, as she worked through the end of the first verse. Starting the chorus, she sang as Puck and Sam circled her with their instruments, before she broke out again towards the dancers, trying to insert herself into their movements, only for them to brush her off and continue on alone…

_…Our little group has always been, _

_and always will,_

_until the end._

_Hello Hello Hello Hello Hello Hello…_

She followed her blocking with a theatric turn around Sam as he picked at the strings of his instrument, then moving to match steps with Brittany and Mike again as she was supposed to ghost their choreography a moment before another swift turn brought her to face Puck where they completed their steps, intended to look as though they were dancing with one another despite a foot a space between them, as he too continued to strum.

They'd omitted the poetry insert of the original Patti Smith recording giving a short musical interlude instead where Sam and Puck stood practically toe to toe, essentially jamming off one another, as she built up the oft repeated "hello"s into an increasingly impressive octave, the dancers working in more tightly to center stage as she sent her voice up high before a careful dive, ending with abrupt synchronization all the sound and movement around her, now all of them separated out in a broad circle, backs to each other, heads down.

She fought off the smile until Mr. Schue started clapping.

"Chills, guys. I just got chills."

Rachel beamed at the praise as her coach gave her shoulder a light squeeze before fist-bumping Sam at her side.

"That was so well timed and each of your parts hit just right. Go ahead and see if you can't squeeze in some relaxation before the bell because you've earned it. I'll see you all later."

He made his way out of the choir room, Mike and Sam right behind him, eager to find their girlfriends, while she took her normal seat, finding it hard to wipe the proud smile from her face.

Waving to Brittany as she gathered her own things and took off towards the cafeteria, she let out a pleased giggle as Puck sat down beside her.

"Alright, Berry, what's with the creepy-ass smile? You're looking medicated and it's kinda freaking me the fuck out."

She rolled her eyes at his profane inquiry but her smile didn't lessen at all.

"Don't you feel it, Noah? We _nailed _that song. _And_ the "Message in a Bottle/S.O.S." mash-up this morning. I watched Kurt's "Can't Help Falling in Love" yesterday, and was elated to find it already practically perfect. It's like, I _know_ we're all tired. I'm exhausted, certainly, and I'm feeling the stress of constant rehearsing, don't misunderstand me. But honestly? I'm not worried. At all. It just all feels worth it, it all feels…right." She turns to face him fully," Right?"

He looked at her with an amused smile a moment, long enough for her to feel her cheeks heat slightly under the consistency of his gaze, before he turned away from her slightly and let out a laugh, slipping into the arrogant slouch of his that she found so familiar. "Fuck yeah, right. We're bringing home that trophy, Berry. No doubts."

"You know, I'd feel even _more_ confident if you would just let me know what song you have decided to sing for your solo. Mr Schuester has told me that you are doing beautifully, but maintains that if you wish it to remain a secret, he won't interfere."

"Nope." He popped the P playfully and shook his head at her, "You worry about your songs, let me worry about mine."

"But NO-ah," she had rarely encountered an instance where whining didn't work on him but watched him remain unmoved by her pouting lip.

"No. You are already micro-managing, and I'm not going to be straw that breaks the Berry's back, aight? You trust that I can do this, don't you? Sing a solo in a competition?"

"Of course I do."

"Then let Mr. Schue do what he's barely getting paid for, and leave it at that."

Hearing the bell ring, Rachel let out a sigh of (temporary) defeat as she stood. "Fine. Though I know for a fact that you are only being so secretive because you _know_ it drives me crazy."

"Drive you crazy? Fuck that, Berry. You are already there. Crazy is your "Hotel California"…you can't fuckin' leave. Only place I have to drive you is home."

She laughed at him, even as she poked his side playfully in reprimand, laughing further as he captured her hand in his and refused to give it back until she admitted he was right.

Between their bickering and giggling down the hallway towards 6th period, Rachel didn't notice Finn, or the pained way he was watching them.

!

"Listen up, kiddies, we are going to start with speed runs. Three times through each song's choreography, no music, just the steps, okay? Then we will add in the recordings, fine tune any trouble spots we find from there. Got it?"

"Yes, Brittany."

The blonde cheerio smiled at the sound of her friends answering her in unison. It was a first, her being put in charge of _anything_, but it meant the world to her that her coach and her teammates had such faith in her as to ask her to essentially choreograph all their numbers…though, truth be told, if there was one area where she had earned that level of faith, this was totally it. Dancing _was_ her second middle name, after all. (She'd asked Santa to have it officially added when she was 9.)

Having claimed an hour of every night's rehearsal for "booty" camp, she was beyond proud of the progress everybody was making. She and Mike had talked about it, and to win Nationals they really needed to be completely in step with one another, and while she knew everyone had to be exhausted, no one was giving it any less than their all.

"Alright, places for "Swing" – Quinn, be ready on my count."

Brittany walked around the group's perimeter quickly, ensuring everyone was in precise formation. Their second set kicked off with a pretty elaborate group number, a mash-up of The All-American Rejects' "Swing, Swing" and the Duke Ellington classic "It Don't Mean a Thing (If it Ain't Got that Swing)" – the result of which was amazing, if she did say so herself.

Finding everyone in the right spaces, she led off with a pre-count of  
"a 5-6-7-8" before Quinn immediately took off for her first of four handsprings across the stage. Brittany continued her count in a strong, authoritative voice as a waiting Puck caught Quinn at the end of her tumbling, immediately lifting her in the air over his head, and then sliding her through his legs before Sam "pushed" their mohawked teammate into a somersault, pulling Quinn up and whisking her away, continuing on briefly as her partner.

The overall routine was far more story-like than most the others, with Quinn singing and dancing her way from partner to partner, as she alone took on the vocals for the "It Don't Mean a Thing" portion of the number, while the boys, backed by the other girls, lamented the loss of her with the lyrics of the other song.

Counting loudly still, Brittany took her turn through rapid swing-like steps in unison with Santana before Quinn appeared, placing a hand on each of their shoulders to boost herself up and over their connected hands, to land in front of a waiting Finn.

Brittany internally cheered as their admittedly weakest dancer lifted his blonde ex-girlfriend easily and rotated her around once under his arm, smoothly, before Artie grabbed her hand, pulled her onto his lap, and began spinning them both in an intricate pattern with his chair.

Brittany was overjoyed at how easily the speed through was going, and didn't fail to note the particular look of elation on the other blonde's face. (For having been, supposedly, so close for so many years as two parts of the unholy trinity, Brittany could not once ever remember Quinn looking so happy. And it was wonderful to see it now.)

Making their way through the final stanzas, Brittany's counting stayed strong and she felt like she could burst as Quinn's legs locked around Mike's waist a second, before releasing as Mike effectively twisted her in the air to face the other way. Spinning her legs in a full circle around his own, lifting his when necessary to let hers move through, Mike twirled her for a dazzling finale all before Quinn hopped out of his arms, gave him a playful shove back, and ended the number standing all on her own.

Clapping her hands rapidly after her last count, Brittany gave them a moment to get water while she tried to even out her own excitement. She was a little floored to have seen it go along so smoothly, and practically breathless with anticipation at the thought of it only getting even better from here. She'd done this. It wasn't just a little footwork planning with Mike, or giving tips to improve what Mr. Schue had gotten started. What she'd just witnessed, been part of, was incredible. And every step had been her idea. She'd created it, and taught it, and worked through the trouble spots with Finn and Lauren, and gave one-on-one time to Quinn and Puck. Her friends wanted this so badly, and trusted her so completely, and she'd nailed it…they'd ALL nailed it. Together. She was flustered and giddy at the realization. She wanted to tackle Quinn, and slap high fives to all the guys, and let the other ladies know just how great they were, too…but she didn't have the words, she wasn't elephant like Rachel, so she just smiled at them instead.

And then basked in the glow of being the boss for once. "Alright, everybody, back to places….Now, from the top!"

!

Finn studied himself in the mirror, willing the frazzled look from his eyes. He was supposed to be in the auditorium in about four minutes, but he needed to unknot his stomach and stop himself from shaking first.

It was so weird, really.

Last semester, last year, singing with Rachel was just part of his daily life. Something he was always grateful for, of course, but nothing out of the ordinary. They were the leads, the co-captains, after all. And, besides, they just fit when they were performing. It didn't matter if it was a song they'd practiced countless times, or one of those they'd had to pull out on the fly, singing with Rachel had always felt right, always seemed like the easiest thing in the world.

Until now.

After the let-down of his surprise at Regionals, and with just everything that had happened between them since the fall, that ease and comfort he'd always felt while singing with Rachel was missing. He was still overjoyed that they had a duet, and even more so that it had been her idea. He still delighted in every time he got to clasp her hand as they moved through their choreography, in every note executed with the perfect blend of their voices. But, as they had to practice their duet for Nationals EVERY day, he kept finding himself in front of this mirror, giving himself one of these pep talks right before their rehearsal, just to be able to walk out there and do something he _truly_ enjoyed, with the person he loved_ most_ in the world.

It was the weirdest mix of gratitude and fear, excitement and sheer nervousness…and he'd had to switch to extra EXTRA strength deodorant for the toll this was all taking.

He felt like, with every run-through, they were getting closer to something _more_, again. Like the chemistry they couldn't shake or deny was a physical force, pushing them together.

But he still saw hesitance in her eyes when they'd finish holding that last note, standing practically in each other's arms, panting and exhausted and moved.

He still saw guilt and fear.

Even if the longing was there, too. And the love.

It was like being on a cliff overlooking the ocean, wanting to dive into the most beautiful and welcoming water he'd ever seen….but then noticing there were jagged, stabby rocks down there, too, and wondering if it was worth the risk to jump.

He didn't want to rush her, had promised he wouldn't…but singing with her every day without holding her after? It was practically killing him.

Of course, a quick glance at his phone told him SHE'D kill him, if he didn't get to the auditorium in the next 34 seconds.

Rushing in through the doors with only a few more seconds to spare, his, "Sorry, I'm almost-late," died on his lips as he saw her sitting on the edge of the stage, laughing heartily at something Puck was saying, as the guy stood leaning against the wall beside her.

He noticed Rachel's smile change, brighten, at the sight of him, and focused on that to help ignore Puck's barely restrained disappointment at his arrival.

"Finn! Are you ready to begin? Mr. Schue had to take a parent/teacher meeting, so he said to go through our song twice, and provided I was satisfied, to then get some studying in before tonight's group rehearsal. Based off how wonderful we sounded yesterday, I don't anticipate any issues, but we may as well go ahead and get started… just in case."

She moved to push herself off the stage, but before Finn could move a muscle, Puck had taken her hand to help her down.

He felt heat on his neck and a tightening in his jaw as she beamed at his former best friend in thanks.

His hand clenched into a fist as he watched them share a few more words before, to his dismay, Puck slipped lazily into a front row seat as Rachel took her place on stage.

Great. Like this wasn't already awkward enough.

He nodded to the jazz band as he made his way to his starting mark. He took a fleeting glance at Rachel, where she stood to the side, mostly in shadow as the spotlight began on him, but as he listened to the intro he closed his eyes and could see her perfectly in his mind and focused on that image as he started to sing.

_I miss the sound of your voice_

_And I miss the rush of your skin_

_And I miss the still of the silence _

_As you breathe out and I breathe in_

He opened his eyes as Rachel's voice joined in, just lightly harmonizing with his on the bridge. She lifted her hand as if to reach for him, before backing a few steps, his cue to follow her as they worked their way around the stage circling each other, close enough to touch one moment, and then retreating to opposite corners again, voices mingling at the chorus like each wasn't complete without the other's.

And when she began her verse it took so much effort to focus on anything other than just listening in awe, so much so that all of his nerves, all memory of their pained history, even Puck in the front row, just seemed to disappear.

_I miss the sound of your voice_

_The loudest thing in my head_

_And I ache to remember_

_All the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said_

Singing the bridge together, again in perfect harmony, they stood so close and he felt the lyrics, so heavy, as he stared into her eyes, professing the words to her as much for his heart's sake as the performance's.

_..I'd make you believe  
I'd make you forget…_

He noticed the sheen of dampness on her cheeks, and while he'd seen her cry while singing what seemed like a thousand times, he thought, he maybe hoped, it might have even more to do with him, with _them_, this time.

_I miss the pull of your heart  
I taste the sparks on your tongue  
I see angels and devils  
And God, when you come on  
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on_

Her voice climbed so high, utterly perfect as the song built to climax, and it felt better than it had at any practice before.

_So come on get higher_

_Loosen my lips_

_Faith and desire and the swing of your hips_

_Pull me down hard_

_And drown me, drown me in love_

He squeezed her fingers gently as they interlaced with his own and he was afraid he'd have no voice to finish with as a breathless feeling hit him when she squeezed back.

_It's all wrong _

_It's all wrong _

_…It's so right…_

It really was, so right, and he sang the last stanza with his everything, all for her.

_Come on, get higher_

_Come on and get higher_

_Because everything works, love_

_Everything works_

_In your arms_

The last of the music and their voices faded.

And immediately Finn felt something different yet familiar in his chest. Rachel's hand was still warm, tightly wrapped in his own, and there was no pull to it, no tug for distance. Something had changed during the course of the song and that calm, that effortless sense of completeness, he'd been missing just 10 minutes ago, was back. He felt lighter, but fuller, than he had in months and his eyes moved to her, to see if she'd felt it too…she had to have, right?

Turning, he caught her smile, her eyes sparkling, and for a second it was everything he'd hope for…This was a _moment_, this had to be a sign.

But then, blushing, she glanced down and away, and as he studied her profile he watched as her face fell, brows pinching together with what appeared to be confusion.

And his heart plummeted as he followed the line of her sad eyes to a seat in the front row, now empty.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note: So...home stretch. We're in the final few chapters, and sections of this and the next one were actually written prior to the first chapter (like, the entire preceding story was written to get to these scenes, and I'm so excited to finally unleash them. I'm also excited to be updating in a pretty timely manner...yay holiday weekends). Thanks to all those who read and reviewed the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: Just playing. I'll put 'em all back.

!

"Rachel, princess, we don't leave for another two days. I understand your type-A preparedness better than most, but you are making me dizzy with this hyperactive speed-packing."

Rachel froze, mid-rush, blushing slightly as she looked down at the several semi-folded blouses stuffed in her arms, the precarious bottles of shampoo and conditioner resting on top of them, the pair of high heels dangling off her right pointer finger.

She heaved a sigh and glanced apologetically at her best friend, lounging regally on the bed next to her half-filled luggage.

"You're right, Kurt. I'm taking my nerves out on my suitcase…and you, by association. I'm sorry."

He smiled away her apology as he sat up a little straighter, placing his quarter-read copy of _A Brave New World_ on her nightstand. "It's okay, dear, I'm just a little concerned as to _why_ you are so frantic. I mean, we've really got this, Rachel."

"I know. And I'm not even sure it is Nationals, entirely. ...I just feel worked up and on edge lately. I haven't been sleeping well these last few nights; I'm probably just worried about exams or something. I haven't been readying myself like I normally do, with all our rehearsals and everything."

Expecting him to reassure her by dismissing her academic fears, she began refolding her shirts, only to look back up to Kurt as she noticed his lack of response. And the appraising gaze she then found on his face was unsettling.

"Yes, well, we both know _that_ is total bullshit."

"Kurt!"

"Please, with the language you hear from Puckerman on a daily basis I doubt your ears can claim delicate sensibilities any longer."

She looked down to smooth non-existent wrinkles from her now neat pile of clothing while avoiding his stare, but she should have known Kurt could read her anyway.

"Rachel. What's really bothering you? I'm certain it has to do with the aforementioned Puck and, likely, also my lovable-idiot of a step-brother somehow, but I need more details if you want me to help. And you do want me to help, whether you'll admit it or not."

She rolled her eyes at his over-confident assertion but nodded slightly.

"Finn's not an idiot, but otherwise you are right. They've both been acting…strange."

"Oh, honey, they are both always strange."

She leveled him with a moderate glare and he looked mildly contrite as he motioned for her to continue.

"Well, it's mostly Noah. He's not talking to me…but not really not-talking to me?" She sighed again at how ridiculous she sounded. "He's still talking, technically, but he's not _saying_ anything. And he's been mysteriously too busy for the last few days…though I don't know with what, as he rarely studies without my nagging and the baseball season is over. He seems angry with me, but I don't know what I could have done to cause it, and it makes my stomach hurt and my chest ache and… I miss him, Kurt. It's only been three days, but I miss my friend."

She hated the way her voice had gotten low and quivering, but the truth was she was hurt and sad and was throwing herself into a hectic frenzy as an attemped distraction. Since he disappeared without a word from her duet rehearsal with Finn the other night, Noah had barely spoken to her, and when he had it was gruff and overly-formal (for him). And she _knew _she knew why, but she couldn't say it. She didn't want it to be true. She could feel things shifting, getting to a point where neither one of them could ignore it any longer. And it just _hurt_.

And, to make matters worse, there was the Finn of it all. He'd been nothing short of amazing. Through every step of preparations for Nationals, he'd been the perfect co-captain, the perfect partner, the perfect friend. The perfect more-than-friend. The way he looked at her, and sang with her? When she let herself forget the competition and the friends and the Noah around them, she thought she was finally ready to dive back in, to answer that soft and adoring gaze with one of her own. But every time she almost relented, almost let him know that she was game, the rest of the world would come rushing back at her again, and she found she couldn't say a word.

It was all so confusing, so horribly murky and messy, and she looked at Kurt now with tears in her eyes, and willed him to understand the rest so she didn't have to explain it. Willed him to understand that there were more than just her own feelings to consider and that she knew, now, beyond any doubt, that someone she loved was going to get hurt.

Kurt's face was softened with sympathy and he opened his arms wide for her to come in for a hug, and she ended up curling into his side, relishing the comfort of his gently stroking her hair.

He was quiet a long time while she cried, just a little, before his voice, a little hoarse, captured her attention.

"I don't envy you your predicament, princess, as attractive as having two boys totally crazy about you sounds. I know that heart of yours is going to break a little no matter how this thing works out. But I want you to remember, you won't have to go through that pain alone this time. And no one, especially neither one of them, can fault you in the end. No one can control their heart, Rachel. Not even you."

She felt him press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, and she squeezed her arms around him a little to offer her thanks. It wasn't a promise that things were going to be easy, and it wasn't an answer for helping to sort it all out, but it was as much comfort as she could really expect in this situation. And she appreciated that no matter what happened, at least the loss of Kurt wasn't something she would have to endure.

!

Lauren was panting, and sweating, and glaring…at herself. She was positioned in front of the mirror wall in the studio, looking as worn out as she'd ever been, but there was also a gleam in her eye of pure determination. "Let's go through it again," she growled, and somewhere in the nearly-passed-out-from-exhaustion recesses of mind she hoped Mike realized she wasn't growling at him.

She tensed, keying up for the cue of the music, but when it didn't come she broke her stare from her reflection to find her teammate approaching her with a water bottle extended and a look of concern.

"Zeezy, you have been pushing like mad. I think we can call it a night. You looked really good this last run-through, and we both have to be back here in," the slender boy grimaced as he checked his watch, "less than seven hours. Drink up and let's just go home."

She hesitated before grabbing the water from his hands, and while she gave him a smirk of thanks before sucking down half the bottle, she still shook her head.

"I still don't have that middle sequence down, and I keep falling a count behind at the finale. I can't quit until I get it right, Chang. I have to keep practicing."

She could feel Mike's eyes appraising her warily as she set the water bottle down, but without allowing him to argue, she walked over to the stereo. The sounds of the thirteen voices she knew best in the world at this point, including her own, erupted in the space, as she mimed the first few counts' arm motions and rushed to get to her mark by the eighth. She moved through the choreography with every ounce of her concentration directed at the footwork, and as the music transitioned for the most complicated part at the middle of the mash-up, she felt a sense of euphoria as she knew she'd _finally_ nailed every step and change.

The last minute of the song flew by and she was keeping perfect time with her counts, quickly moving around the room, until, after she'd confidently passed the point that had previously been giving her so much grief, she felt the sole of her sneaker catch on the worn hardwood. She was hit with several waves of panic in a single instant as she felt herself fall forward at an angle she couldn't stop. There was the rush of frustration at falling NOW, when she was just getting it all right, as well as annoyance at doing so in front of the ever-light-on-his-feet Mr. Chang. But mostly she had a brief but true taste of terror that she'd twist or bruise something, an unacceptable hit this close to competition…what if she got black eye, what if she couldn't perform?

By the time stock of her physical position caught up to her mental journey, she found she WOULD have fallen flat on her face…save for the supporting arms of Mike that came seemingly out of nowhere.

"Are you okay?"

After a pause to catch her breath and right herself, she found Mike's eyes wide and earnest. She felt a rare flush of humiliation at his sincere worry, but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

She made to turn away and head to restart the music when she felt his hand grab her forearm.

"Lauren." An unprecedented sternness marked his tone. "You ARE stopping now and going home and getting sleep. Seriously. Your steps were _perfect_ that time, I promise."

"Yeah, until I tripped, Lo-."

"You _only_ tripped because this floor has not been waxed properly since Figgins became principle. And because your reflexes are too tired to catch yourself. Come _on_. And what's with this manic urge to practice anyway? It's 11:30…even Rachel is sleeping by now."

She heaved a weighty exhale, rolling her eyes as her head fell back in exasperation at herself. The only thing worse than fear was admitting it.

Groaning as he continued to look at her with an eyebrow raised, waiting, she relented. "I just don't want to let everyone down, okay? Everyone has worked so hard, and they all have this dance down. Except me. Hell, even Hudson has it." She shook her head with a spike of annoyance. "We need to be perfect at Nationals, and I don't want to be what holds us back."

Mike's face softened into an expression so sweet she found herself wanting to both puke and punch him, while still being really jealous of Tina at the same time.

"You have worked so hard, too, Lauren. And you are doing so well. You sound great on all the songs, and you just proved you can get through the hardest part of hardest routine. I believe in you, the whole team believes in you, and YOU are going to be great."

She rolled her eyes again. "But-"

"No "but"s. You don't think I'm petrified of messing up, too? You guys are trusting me to sing, by myself, at a competition. I am a dancer by nature, but I am certainly not a singer by it. But I'm putting in my all, and you guys believe in me. So I'm going to do my best in New York on Friday and I will have to trust your faith is justified. And no matter what happens at Nationals, you'll still have my back, right?"

She shook her head at his turning her fears around on her, but answered honestly all the same. "Right."

"Well, we'll all still have yours. …But, if you pass out from fatigue because you wouldn't take breaks when you needed them, we will have to kick your ass." He tried to intimidate her with his partly honest warning but Lauren found his accompanying expression more humorous than threatening.

"Whatever. It'd take all twelve of you at once to bring me down."

He laughed then and gave a little shrug. "Well, yeah, that's probably true."

She rolled her eyes again, but was surprised to feel a little of her previous anxiety lifted. "Fine, Chang. We'll head out." She moved to pick up her towel and last bottle of water before turning back to him. "But if you tell anyone I almost fell, Tina will be doing a solo at Nationals."

!

"I swear to God, Puckerman. If you don't quit your moping, right this second, I will set your sorry ass on fire and dance maniacally around the flames as I watch your pathetic loser bones burn."

Santana Lopez' eyes narrowed as her ex-lover gave her a dismissive wave of his middle finger, before closing his eyes again, his right forearm falling over his face to further block the light.

He was laying lamely on the worn sofa of the Puckerman family room and the sight of it pissed her off. So throwing the baseball she'd nearly tripped over on her way in at him, she hoped she'd finally get his attention.

"The fuck, Tana?" came his hostile reply just after impact, as he turned to glare at her and rub his now presumably sore left shoulder.

"I said…. Stop. Fucking. Moping!"

Turning on the couch to face her fully, she had to admit his angry stare would have intimated anyone other than her. And maybe Zizes. "I am NOT moping."

"The hell you aren't. I mean, look at yourself. Stubble and sweat pants, surrounded by take-out cartons. You're like a half-eaten pint of ice cream away from scoring a permanent vagina of your own, you are so epically moping right now. And we have shit to take care of in New York in two days. So get it together, or I WILL cut you." She stepped further into the room to tower over him, her impeccably manicured hands finding her hips, but even under the frustration and attitude she was genuinely assessing his state out of friendly concern. He truly did look a mess.

Of course, the friendly part of it all lessened as he opened his mouth. "Despite being 100% Bitch, you are still, like, 90% talk… you know that, right?"

"That still leaves 10% able to teach you a lesson, asshole… and that's way more badassery than you've got left at this point. Jesus, Puck. Schue gave us the night off to pack, not to fester in your own grody, being disgusting."

"What the fuck do you even care…as long as I show up ready to dance and sing tomorrow like a good little boy, what I do in my free time shouldn't matter to anyone."

"You know why I care…why all of us care...that you have barely been responsive at rehearsal, that you looked like an honest-to-God hobo at school today, that Berry is flipping her last shred of shit that you haven't returned her calls. We're your friends, Puck. And I have an educated guess as to why you are sitting there like some dejected Rom-Com Meg Ryan wannabe, but I'm telling you, for your actual sake, to man up and get the fuck over it."

Something seemed to snap in him at her final words, and she was startled enough to take a small step back when he stood suddenly in fury. "You think I don't know that? Do you think I want to be feeling like shit? Knowing that it's my own fault for letting it go on this long, knowing I'm going to have to suck it up and go to New York and smile through goddamn song after goddamn song, and act like seeing her all sad and hurt while I try to preserve just a little bit of my self-dignity isn't actually kill me? I wish to God that I could just get the fuck over it, San. I do. But my heart is fucking obliterated right now, alright, and having acted like I didn't even have one for the better part of my life, I don't know exactly how to deal with that. I'm doing the best I can, so if your only advice is for me to just man up, then allow me to show my appreciation by saying, 'Fuck you, and get the hell out.'"

Having recovered her cool during his outburst she stood completely still and waited as the flush faded from his cheeks and his breathing slowed. She stared at him and he stared at her and the truth was, she did feel for him, way more compassion and empathy than she was used to. Romantic feelings aside, Rachel had become the best friend he'd ever had, and after experiencing the strain and distance on her friendship with Brittany earlier in the year, she could relate to some of the awful he was feeling.

But just as he didn't know how to deal with his own hurting, she didn't know how to show her concern any other way than this. And even if all she could offer him was showing up to scream and be screamed at, the subtext was: at least he wasn't alone.

"Look, I'm not going to leave, okay? I'm going to sit down and drink a beer with you, because I know you need one and you shouldn't be drinking alone. We're going to watch two episodes of Family Guy, and we are going to laugh because Peter Griffin is fucking hysterical. Then we are going to sleep, because we have to be at school by 6:00 am to do one last monster of a rehearsal. Tomorrow, you will talk to Rachel. Partly because I cannot take one more near-teary phone call, asking if I know why you're angry with her. What you say, that's up to you, but I think we both know it's just fucking time to rip the band-aid off already. It's going to suck…but, doesn't it kind of suck already?"

She stared at him hard another second, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised to emphasize her pointed rhetorical question. Then, grabbing two beers from the cooler she knew was hidden behind the recliner, she sat down beside him, immediately kicking off her shoes and setting her feet in his lap.

And she knew his mumbled "thank you" wasn't just for handing him the beer.

!

The fullness of their voices lingered powerfully for a moment, then vanished entirely into a long moment of silence, before Artie was able to shake free of the frozen stillness.

And the first move he made was to wipe two tears from beneath his glasses.

Performing had always been a rush, and as the team had continued to grow together since "Sit Down Your Rocking the Boat" he'd felt an increasing high at what New Directions was capable of delivering when they all worked together. "Don't Stop Believing," "Somebody to Love," "Imagine," "Like A Prayer," "To Sir With Love," their entire set at Regionals just a few weeks back - he'd definitely been moved by what and how they'd combined their talents and passion before… but he had never felt anything quite like this. While singing, or otherwise.

And it was like every single one of them was afraid to speak just now, for fear of losing that magic.

They'd been here in the auditorium for the last hour and a half, finalizing travel details, doing warm-ups and stretches and, finally, practicing their three group numbers.

Despite the early call time, and the yawns and baggy-eyes they'd all arrived with, they'd been ON from the moment the jazz band started. And consequently had made it through without a hitch.

The first two sets included mash-ups that were complicated and dance-heavy, but the last few weeks' rehearsals had been spent largely dedicated to smoothing them out and getting them running like a well-oiled machine. He wasn't surprised they'd gone so well.

But the last number? There was no real choreography so there'd been very little practice after its original selection. Maybe if it was any other song such a simple approach may have done it a disservice. But Artie could see, now, with the emotion of it still reverberating in his bones – this was what was going to win them Nationals.

Finally, Mr. Schue broke the silence. "I keep telling myself, each time you make cry, that it's going to be the last time. But it never is." There was a ripple of chuckles and small smiles. "I had this whole big speech planned, a pep talk before the chaos starts when we all get on that plane tomorrow, and try to squeeze in last minute preparation, and struggle to make sure we're all where we're supposed to be at all times…but, you know what? I think you all already know everything you need to know. If you didn't, what I just heard, witnessed, _felt_, would not have been possible. So I'm going to end our last homecourt rehearsal by just saying I'm so proud of all of you. Now, have a great day, and I will see you tomorrow, out front at 7:15 am, to leave for New York City!"

Their teacher gave a big smile and made to move away as a dismissal when, suddenly, Artie couldn't stop himself from speaking. "Actually, uh, Mr. Schue? Can I say something?"

He saw everyone's heads turn to him out of his peripheral vision as Mr. Schuester responded, "Of course."

He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

"Rachel once told Mr. Schue that being a part of something special makes you special…and, while we've reminded of each other of that numerous times over the last two years, I don't think I've ever understood it as much as I do right now." He felt Brittany reach over from her stool beside him to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze, while he saw Sam and Tina and Kurt all nodding in agreement. "The truth is, we actually might not win this weekend. I'd like to think our chances are good, amazing even, but there's just no way of knowing, and as confident as we are right now, I think we have to be prepared for that. But I have never enjoyed anything so much as being a part of this, with all of you, and the thing is, that will still be true no matter what happens in New York. Trophy or no trophy. This has already been more than I ever could have hoped for, and I just wanted to thank you guys for making me part of something special."

For a brief moment, as no one moved or said anything in response, Artie felt the slightest start of embarrassment at having given such a speech. Most of his outbursts in glee had been more for commentary or, on occasion, frustration. Yet he couldn't hold back just now, and quickly looking at the faces of his gleemates, he knew there was no need for shame at having spoken so freely – every single one of them clearly felt the same way. In an instant, Brittany was on his lap, kissing his cheek, before he felt two more sets of arms wrap around his shoulders, recognizing them as Quinn and Mercedes from the accompanying perfume and squeeze respectively. Soon there was a massive group hug taking place.

And, in that moment, Artie felt the most special he ever had...especially when he heard Mr. Schue's say, in fake exasperation, "And now I'm crying again. Great."

!

Noah Puckerman sat on the cool bleachers of the McKinley High football field, hunched over, forearms resting on his knees. No one was around at the moment to see him briefly embrace the aura of defeat and sadness. And the person coming to meet him wouldn't judge him for it. She'd never judged him for anything, and that was partly what made this all so hard.

The evening air was chilling rapidly; May was only warm in Ohio until the sun began to set. But he ignored the way the wind whipped at his thin white t-shirt, too lost in his own thoughts.

Finally, the moment he was both waiting for and dreading was here, as he could make out Rachel's form, clad in her pink spring parka, making her way through the gate from the parking lot.

He watched her the entire way until she reached him, sitting primly at his side, before turning his gaze down to study his hands. He swallowed hard as he could sense her apprehension and already felt awful for what was to come. It was going to hurt them both, he knew, but it was also the right thing to do. For _her_. And, as the somewhat changed man that he now found himself, he really had no choice.

"Noah?" Her voice was soft enough that the wind carried the second syllable away, but he'd heard her say his name so many times in the last few months he could hear it in his mind perfectly.

"Thanks for meeting me here, Berry." He wondered if she was remembering their last serious conversation on these bleachers as vividly as he was right now. "I just…we need to talk, and I couldn't do it at your house."

He left out his thought that he could barely do it at all.

"What's going on, Noah? You're scaring me. …You aren't quitting glee, are you? We need you! I ne-"

"Cool your jets," he interrupted. "This has nothing to do with glee. Not really."

He'd interrupted her to calm her freak out, but noticed she looked more scared after his comment than she had at the thought he was quitting. She was smart enough that she probably saw where he was heading.

"It's about me. And you." He cleared his throat and looked pointedly away from her face, staring at the center of the scoreboard across the field. "And you and Finn."

"There is no me and Finn, you know that. We're_ just_ friends."

Her voice sounded unnatural, higher and desperate, totally unlike herself on the word "friends" and he thought that was as telling as everything else he'd seen in the last few weeks.

"Look, I'm…I'm bowing out, Berry. It's him, and we both know it. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's the only one who hasn't known it would be him all along."

"Noah-"

Her tone was one of protest but he was at least thankful that she wasn't going to pretend that she didn't know what he meant.

"It's okay, Rachel. I'm not pissed or anything." He gave an awkward laugh. "I'm almost relieved."

Her stare, focused on him so intently, slipped from sad and sympathetic to questioning.

"This wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything wrong. You just want him more." He shrugged. "But if you picked me, I'd have to always be afraid of fucking things up. And if I did, and I only had myself to blame for losing you? That'd be a hell of a lot harder to deal with than this." He recognized the way she was biting her lip as an effort to keep from crying, and when she reached over to take his hands, he clasped at hers tightly. His voice was strong, and his expression neutral, but he knew she could tell from the way he held her warm fingers so tightly that this was hurting him more than he'd ever imagined. "We'd be really great together, though. If it weren't for him."

Her response was totally sincere. "I know."

"Still. This almost feels like a victory, in a way."

"A victory?" She asked, a note of offense in her voice.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her.

"My entire life, it seems, he's always beaten me. Despite my superior muscle definition and higher IQ." He chuckled at her frown, but continued when she didn't argue with him. "People just like him better. Parents, teachers, girls. Did you know I even tried out for quarterback originally? I could throw the ball farther too. But he was growing so fast, and had such a better "attitude," that Tanaka was sure he was the right guy for the job. I have _always_ been the consolation prize for Finn Hudson... or worse. But this was different. The way I see it, you could've chosen him all along. You could have just run back to him months ago, after that night at Quinn's. But you didn't. Because you didn't want to lose me. You knew he may not wait forever, you knew you loved him, but you didn't want to hurt me, or give me up, and so you refused to choose. By not picking either of us, you were sorta picking me."

He watched as the tears started slipping out, rolling down her cheeks, off the slope of her chin, but she refused to relinquish her hold on him in order to wipe them away. "Even now, if I wasn't giving you permission, you'd keep fighting it. I know you, and you'd wait until I was over it or he just gave up. Finn may be the one you've wanted, but I'm the one you kinda needed. And that means a lot, Berry. I got to beat Finn this time. Even if it's not working out quite like I hoped."

A small sob broke free from her throat, and her head was shaking back and forth. "I hate this, Noah. I wish-"

"I know you do. But I'll be okay, Berry. I'll get over you eventually. And I'm fuckin' hot, so it's not like I'm going to be lonely in the meantime."

He waggled his eyebrows until she giggled through her tears. Though her expression grew more pained at the sound of her own laughter. "God, why are _you_ trying to make _me_ feel better?"

"Because I love you."

He said it without thinking. He stated it simply because it was true. And because this would be his last chance to say it.

He watched as a new wave of regret crashed into her eyes, and her hands squeezed his desperately. He could tell she wanted to say it back. But he knew she wouldn't, and he was grateful. She couldn't mean it the same way, no matter how badly he wished she could, and hearing it out loud would just make him want her to mean it more.

They stared at each other a long time, and he hated that it was an ending. He didn't blame her, he couldn't, but he knew that even while still offering her his friendship, everything about the way things had been between them was now over. Fairness to Finn aside, he didn't think he could get over her if he didn't force himself to let go.

"I'm so sorry, Noah." He knew she wasn't apologizing for anything she'd done, but for what she couldn't do. He was pretty sure she _wanted_ to love him.

But love didn't work that way.

"Me too, Berry. Me fuckin' too."

!

"Sam, it's me and I'm sorry to call so late but I need you to do me a favor."

Quinn Fabray's request came out in a rushed breath but she couldn't fight the small smile at her boyfriend's immediate reply of, "Anything." After remembering the situation at hand, however, the one that had her whispering on her phone in Rachel's bathroom now that the smaller girl had finally cried herself to sleep, her reaction to his seemingly effortless sweetness was short-lived.

"From what I've gathered in between Rachel's sobs, apparently her and Puck had the _talk,_ and…well… if she's this upset? I just don't think he should have to be by himself right now." The blonde released a heavy sigh, and while most might have interpreted it as a sign of being put-off by other people's emotional needs, she trusted that Sam understood she was just frustrated that neither of them could do much more than be there. "San can't get out of her night with her abuela, and while Finn would have once been the first choice here, for a plethora of obvious reasons that's no longer the case. Do you think you could pull out the forces of Spam or Schmuck or whatever you two call yourselves while video-gaming to literally take one for the team?" Her voice fell to an even quieter register. "He just sacrificed his best friend for her own happiness, and…" She trailed off at a loss for what else to say. "Please?"

While she'd been talking she could hear the thumps of what she believed was Sam shoving his feet into his chucks as well as the clang of him pocketing his keys, readying himself immediately to do as she asked, but now there was only the puffs of his breath on the other side of the line and she wondered at his distraction.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just kind of got lost in thought for a moment...I want to help, Quinn. I do. As much for him, and Rachel, as you. But, am I really the right guy for this?" She could hear the concern and the doubt in his pause. "I mean, what do you say to someone who just broke his own heart?"

And, as the question hit her, Quinn suddenly remembered a year ago, standing next to Puck, before a pane of glass, gazing at one special, beautiful, pink-cheeked, blonde-haired, loved baby girl... and knowing, both of them, that was likely as close to her as they may ever be again. For once, she let herself really feel the memory, and the ever lingering part of both her present and her future: the ache of missing Beth, always, and the weight of a connection to Noah Puckerman that would never truly go away.

She blew out a steadying breath.

"Tell him he's done it before and survived it, so he can do it again."

She brushed away a tear on reflex, but then, in the confines of Rachel's bathroom and with only the boy who loved her as an almost-witness, she let the rest of them fall freely, even as she also let out a slight laugh, "And, tell him not to try and steal anything this time."

!


End file.
